


over the rainbow

by kingburu



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jason Swap, M/M, Romance, godswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 125,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: Jason Grace is dead. At least--that's what Nico thinks, until Jason, son of Hades, suddenly shows up at Camp Halfblood.*Jason should be dead. Praetor di Angelo, son of Jupiter, tells him his life is still worth living.
Relationships: Jason Grace & Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 112
Kudos: 298





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I've been teasing this for a while now, but this is a crossover of canon & AU, much like one of my old stories ([Siamo Nei Guai](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320514)). If you're familiar with my other story, [Dearly Departed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121090?view_full_work=true) (where Nico and Jason swapped godly parents), you'll be familiar with the characters in this story! These are in fact, the same Jason and Nico from Dearly Departed with a time skip! Some details have been altered and others have stayed on the same trajectory, but I'll let you guess what's real and what isn't! 
> 
> If you haven't read Dearly Departed, but still want to read this strange crossover godswap, fear not! I have hopefully put enough detail in there to fill in some gaps. If have read Dearly Departed, then I think you'll have fun picking up on some of the references that have been made!
> 
> [Here](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/617834371642212352/no-theres-a-way-that-jasons-hard-eyes-soften) and [here](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/617894616931434496/so-youre-not-a-praetor-jason-asksthough-he) are some depictions of godswap!Jasico by [ariihen](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> And for now, I hope you guys enjoy this ride we're about to go on together!! Enjoy!
> 
> Lastly -- the title of this story is inspired by Over the Rainbow from Wizard of Oz, but I greatly enjoy the Glee version. Please check it out!

Somehow, getting impaled a second time hurts less than the first.

There’s a _shock_ to the first impact, something that reminds Jason of being electrocuted—like a concentrated blade of lightning striking him from his father’s hand (he winces, remembering the adrenaline and mild-concussion he had the first time he summoned it with his cloudy mind. Even then with all the blistering heat of electricity, his father’s gesture was cold.) The tip of the spear protruded upon his flesh, and the pain streaked through him like ribbons of agonizing light in the darkness.

And then—numbness.

Jason doesn’t even feel the spear a second time when Caligula pierces him. His eyes are locked onto his now-mortal brother, desperate to get the girl who used to hold his heart to safety. To get her far away so this fate could never meet her. Piper, or Jason. Jason—because he’s not going to let it be Piper. He’s not going to risk losing his _other_ best friend, even if they’re no longer _more_ than friends.

(A fault of Juno’s, a fault of Aphrodite’s—a fault of Piper’s, and with sweet relief, a fault of Jason’s, too.)

The second piercing brings him peace.

No more fighting, no more prophecies. Jason should’ve known better than to think that moving to Camp Halfblood would solve all of his problems. There was more freedom than New Rome, sure—but the world would always need to be saved. That freedom always needed to be protected. His friends will always need to be protected. And—if he can make them happy by being himself, that’s okay. He’s okay with dying, so long as he doesn’t have to watch another person perish.

He's okay with getting killed, if that means Piper won’t.

If that means Apollo and Meg will be okay.

He’s okay with dying, if that means he can finally put his sword down.

He’s okay, if that means he doesn’t have to fight anymore.

The judges will weigh his life, like Nico once explained over dinner in the Mess Hall. He talked about it so casually, like saying _it’s cloudy today_ , and Jason clung onto every word like he always does, until Nico got swept away by a warm smile at the Apollo Cabin.

William Shakespeare will perform a soliloquy, dim the cavern of the Underworld to one warm spotlight and enact an entire play of a life that Jason still doesn’t quite remember all the way. Just the constant reminder of pressure and the unending fear of failure—of failing quests, of failing at being a leader, of failing at uniting two camps.

But he didn’t fail. Piper left alive, and Jason didn’t have to watch a friend die. Apollo will be a hero and acknowledge all of the good deeds in a way Jason had given up on his father listening.

He can live in peace, not having to dreading the next battle, or the next quest.

Piper’s not happy with his death, he’s sure—but better him than her. She has a dad and a cabin full of siblings. Thalia has her life figured out. Leo’s living in Indianapolis with a family and a girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth are going to college. Nico has Will and Hazel and Reyna.

Elysium will be a warm welcome with no pressures for him.

He just—

Jason stares down his pristine white robes, lined with a gold hem, and deep purple robes. Off in the vast distance, he sees red-roofed porticos and blanch white buildings. Below where he stands, a hilltop is lined with temples and crypts, with Jupiter Optimus Maximus gleaming so bright that it’s blinding.

He just didn’t expect _Elysium_ to look so much like New Rome.

Okay.

“Strange,” Jason mumbles—and even that sounds bizarre. There’s no _burn_ in his throat, from when he shouted for Apollo to leave. His hand flies to his chest and—although his body tenses, when his fingers brush where the incision should be, there’s no hole. No spear through his chest, no swiss cheese Jason. His body is anew—even if his surroundings aren’t.

As he turns around, Jason startles at the sight of another crypt. Pluto’s, wedged into the side of the hill with a five-foot-tall mini statue standing on a pedestal to _look_ taller. There’s a softness to Pluto’s eyes, that Jason has grown all too familiar with seeing in his children.

Maybe Elysium just loaded you next to the King of the Underworld?

Regardless, Jason moves, surprised that he still needs to take strides rather than float. He plucks a bouquet of vibrant poppies off in the side and places it at the brazier beneath Pluto’s feet.

A guilt weighs on him.

“I wanted to give you a bigger shrine before I died,” Jason admits as he stares at the obsidian face. “Hope you don’t hold it against me.”

He sits in a patch of grass across the crypt to soak in the calm of it all. The birds chatter in the distance. If there are people, they avoid the crypt of Pluto much like they used to avoid his children.

There’s a hiccup in Jason’s chest, where he used to have a heart, that makes him reluctant to get up.

The sound of grass rustling pulls him up anyway. “ _Hey_ baby brother, you’re missing one hell of a…”

Jason turns his head—and suddenly the serenity reverberating in his chest shrivels. His throat burns dry.

His sister stares back at him, dressed in her dark jeans, black band t-shirt, and spiked leather jacket. There’s no silver circlet in her hair and no silver parka. The freckles spill across her face without the glow of the moonlight—and the warm familiarity of her tone makes Jason’s chest hurt more than the spear did. She’s startled by his presence.

The panic sets in.

“No, no, no,” Jason blurts, and suddenly Elysium is _awful._ He can’t breathe. “No, you weren’t supposed to die. You’re supposed be immortal. You’re not supposed to fall. Apollo was supposed to win—y-you’re not supposed to die, too—”

“Jason—” And she snaps out her stupor while Jason is still trying to understand that their _brother_ might’ve failed, and their sister’s _life_ might’ve been thrown in the fold. “I’m not dead.”

Jason stares at her, his eyebrows knit together—and it clicks. His throat swells again. In one of the rare instances that Jason gets to be near his sister, he sees it above her freckled face. “Then—why are we in Elysium?”

There’s a kindness in her eyes, matched only by the god sitting in the crypt only feet away from them. She raises her gaze to Pluto—and then curls a hand beneath Jason’s. Like always, there’s a charged way in which she talks, a rush, like she never has enough time to be with him. Except—

“We should go,” she announces with urgency. “We need a meeting for this.”

“A meeting for what?” And Jason’s mind apparently still hasn’t made it from the mortal realm. He startles as he sees the shadows swelling beneath their feet—manipulated as easily by Thalia as a current would. “Thalia—why are you here? Where are the huntresses? If you’re not dead, then—where are we?”

She doesn’t bat an eye. Her fingers are tight around his wrist, thumb pressed against his pulse, and the grip is so tight that Jason doesn’t think he could break free if he tried. “We’re in New Rome. Our home.”

While his mind is going a mile a minute, his brain halts at her answer.

“Ours?”

*

Nico gets a sense.

The lightest fluttering in his heart, so different from the sucker punch to the gut that happened months ago. He’s been busy, trying to stick to the little routine he’s built for himself to keep from scratching _that_ itch—to keep from going into another fit or another rage. Talk to Mr. D into the mornings, eat on the schedule that Will has ingrained in his head. Talk to Hazel when he needs it. Try not to look more grief-stricken than Leo or Piper whenever they’re around. Try not to let it leak when Thalia or Reyna come around—if they ever do anymore.

And it works. Little by little, it does. He lets himself grieve and turns to someone else before it can turn into more. It’s what he needs. His second chance.

( _Jason deserved a second chance_. He halts, because it sounds too much like _Bianca never should have lost hers.)_

But then he gets a sense. Like spilled water returning to its pitcher, or a butterfly returning to its cocoon.

Then he sprints to the outskirts of camp, breaking into a run from the med bay so similarly to how he ran the first time.

Jason is alive. His kind, strong spirit that first tethered Nico to Camp Halfblood, despite his departure— _alive._

Nico races to the edge of camp, past Thalia’s tree—that stupid, _stupid_ tree—to the entrance.

He only stops when blond hair comes into view, yards away—and then the back of Nico’s throat dries.

The first thing Nico notices is the scar—right above the lip and faded. And then everything else is different.

Blond hair so light that it could blend into skin. Skin so pale that it practically glows. The span of his shoulders is right—same height, same width to the arms that used to vibrate with excitement and welcome Nico with a warm embrace.

But those eyes are inked as black as night—so different from the starry hue that Nico had grown used to—and they stare back at him, bewildered. That blond hair is a little longer, a little more tousled. There isn’t one militant characteristic about this boy, compared to a son of Jupiter that’d been refined by an army since the age of two.

“Oh,” the boy says—and it’s a sweet sound that wets Nico’s eyes. For all that’s different, the gentle tenor of that voice is very much the same. Those charcoal eyes look startled. “Well, this is new.”

At first, he thinks he could mistake this boy for a ghost—which would make sense. It’s the only route that would bring peace for a soul that constantly fought for it. But Nico sees those eyes—inked with black, and that corporeally white flesh—and he knows. There’s an aura of _death_ that coats this boy, but it’s not one of a ghost. 

“You’re,” Nico whispers, and his voice is tight, “not my Jason.”

This Jason, a son of Hades, stares back at him. There’s a little more warmth there than Nico would expect, glittering in the flint of his irises. “And you’re not my Nico.”

*

It happens really fast.

Thalia slinks them into the shadows before Jason can process— _are we shadowtraveling?_ —and they reappear in the _via principia_ , where Jason remembers partaking in many meetings as a senator, and then as a praetor. Never really as a pontifex—Jason died before he could sport the robes and show his diorama to the new senators of New Rome.

And there are things that are the same. The cut of the hedges are the same, and the layout of the city feels familiar. The sky still exists around him and bends as Jason breathes—but he’s supposed to be dead. And he doesn’t think the clouds are supposed to do that while he’s dead.

“Wait, Thalia—” Jason starts, and it halts his big sister at the foot of the principia. At this distance, he can see the worried line in her brow. Her eyes are different. The Thalia he knows—the immortal-fifteen-year-old—is aged only in the hue of her electric blue eyes.

This Thalia, as she turns around, doesn’t glow with moonlight. All of that age radiates in the way she walks and holds herself, rather than in her irises. Jason puts her around eighteen or nineteen to the sixteen when he died.

“Yeah?” Thalia asks.

“You’re not—” Jason’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re not _my_ Thalia.”

The edge of her lips twitch, but her eyes are still somber. “I’m not.”

“And I’m—I’m not your brother,” Jason says, and his eyebrows furrow. The hue of their eyes used to be the only thing that connected them—but all of this feels foreign. He’s so used to her being a passing breeze in his life—but she hasn’t let go of his hand. Her thumb still rests on the vein of his pulse.

She arches an ebony eyebrow to that.

“You’re not _my_ Jason,” she corrects, then she touches a finger to his heart. “But you’re still my baby brother.”

Oh. “Oh,” Jason says. He doesn’t know why, but a lump swells in his throat at that. Really—this Thalia doesn’t dress much differently than the one Jason is used to. There’s an air of authority to her as she speaks—so used to commandeering a group—and a fondness Jason sees in her eyes that he’s only seen inklings of in his own sister.

A smile curls against her lips, warm and _patient_ , but he sees the worry in her gaze.

“You’re wondering where your Jason is,” Jason guesses.

He’s already swept up in this reality and he’s not sure how to process it.

Slowly, her smile dims—dark in a way that Jason has seen on his own face when Leo never came back.

“I’m wondering why you’re dead,” Thalia explains—because even if he isn’t filled with holes, she can tell. “And why I couldn’t protect you.”

There’s a penance to her voice. It’s startling, for some reason—in a way that Jason isn’t familiar with. He’s grown used to the somber ways that Nico talks about death, but this isn’t an air that he’s used to. Jason blinks at her tone. Much like his own sister, this Thalia seems to have everything put together—but her eyes are on him instead of forward.

For the most part, the principia looks the same. Jason isn’t sure what to expect from alternate universes—maybe a font that’s a little different, or a lighter shade of purple for the shirts. The realization hits him that he hasn’t _been_ in the principia in a long time. If he’d turned seventeen like he should have in the past summer (what month is it, anyway?), then it would be two years since he was here in his home.

He never had the chance to _show_ Thalia where he grew up, either. To show her the people who raised him.

And now he walks hand-in-hand with a Thalia who holds more lines on her face, and a little more weight in her heart for him. They walk in tandem, but Jason knows she’s leading him.

The praetor office is the same. Two chairs, for the leading officers. A mosaic ceiling showing Lupa and her two sons, and a royal purple banner that reads _Twelfth Legion Fulminata._ But—everything else is as different to Jason as this Thalia is.

There are people there. Jason is taken aback by the amount of people he sees—and who he recognizes.

Percy is there in the corner, feeding fish. Annabeth is sitting at a table across from the praetor desk on her laptop—an image that Jason’s familiar with. It takes him a second to recognize Reyna—she’s tall and holds her normal prestige as she goes through paperwork at her torso—but this one has a haircut. (Apparently the universe thought Reyna’s hair was important enough to change.)

He expects to see Frank to the left of Reyna, filling out paperwork or debating with Percy over meters and feet—but Frank isn’t. There’s another boy that Jason doesn’t recognize like his other friends—with warm olive skin and a mop of inked hair. There’s a startling quality to his eyes—blue and vibrant—and an ease to his smile that unsettles Jason in the same way this Thalia did, but he’s not sure why.

They’re talking about something. Jason surveys the room and assesses every detail—but there’s no air of tenseness he’s grown so used to associating with New Rome. No political debates, no power-hungry people. Maybe it’s because they’re among friends.

“Thalia!” Percy suddenly says—and as he turns around, Jason sees what’s askew about this Percy. His skin is a little darker under the California sun, and eyes a little greener—but there are six tick marks on his arm, too, as though he’d grown up in New Rome since learning he was a demigod. “Tell Nico that pepperoni isn’t a pizza topping!”

“That wasn’t the argument,” the boy sitting in the other praetor seat retorts sharply. “I told you pizza isn’t really Italian food.”

“Nico?” Jason echoes, and he’s taken aback at how quickly this blue-eyed boy answers. But he sees it now—in the shape of this boy’s nose and the curve of his jaw. The lines beneath his eyes are nonexistent, but Jason has fallen asleep thinking about those eyes regardless of the color.

The Camp Jupiter logo stretches across this boy’s shirt as gold against a purple long-sleeve—and if Jason weren’t so bewildered, he’d laugh. His own Nico was adamant against the warm orange of Camp Halfblood.

This Nico cocks his head over, the grin on his face a boyish aftermath from Percy’s words, and he stares up curiously to Jason. Thalia only grips Jason’s hand tighter. From the corner of his eye, he can see her lips have lifted into the faintest smile—and she stares at Nico with a familiarity that Jason can’t decipher.

“Thal,” Reyna says—( _Thal?)_ —and her voice doesn’t hold the same mirth as Nico or Percy’s. She stares at Jason, scrutinizing him in a way that makes Jason uncomfortable. “Who’s this?”

Thalia lowers her head slowly, her thumb still on the vein of Jason’s wrist rubbing smoothing circles—but Jason can’t tell if it’s for him or her.

“This is Jace,” Thalia says—and suddenly the dust settles in the room. Annabeth cocks her head from her laptop curiously. Percy blinks. Reyna blinks.

“What?” Blue-Eyed Nico frowns. He hops over his desk, hovering over the ground ( _hovering_?) before landing eloquently in front of Jason. He gets close in Jason’s proximity—and even closer.

Jason is startled by the azure hue of his irises. How _different_ they are to the flint of his own Nico’s. But the way Nico brow furrows together, pinching together with the tiniest wrinkle is the same. This Nico tilts his head to the left, eerily the same. He—

Puts hands to Jason’s face, suddenly hovering above the air at eye-level, and tilts Jason’s head for him.

“Um,” Jason starts--which throws him off more, as Blue-Eyed Nico comes even closer, a breath away as he scrutinizes him with the same detail as Thalia. “What are you doing?”

He can _feel_ this Nico’s eyes fall to the scar on his lip. Then to his eyes. This Nico’s squishing his face so hard that Jason doesn’t think the vowels quite make it out with his question.

“Nico,” Thalia warns. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen Thalia and Nico in the same _room_ together, let alone address one another.

“You have the scar,” Blue-Eyed Nico mutters—and then his face scrunches. There’s irritation in his voice. “What did Venus do this time?”

“Venus?” Jason asks, though with the way this Nico is inspecting him, it comes out as _Bean-Is_ and that doesn’t halt Nico’s inquiry either.

“Jace,” this Nico says, and the ire is clear. The way this Nico refers to him that makes Jason’s brain momentarily lag. He glares, a fierce protection in his eyes as he settles to the ground. “What did she do? Do you even know what you’re wearing?”

The cheek-squishing stops, and this Nico’s gaze darts in an inspection from head to toe—at the purple cloak over Jason’s shoulder, at the gold trim at his white robes—and the blithe smile from before is now replaced by an apparent frown.

“Nico,” Thalia says again, and she addresses him with gravity that pulls Nico’s attention. “This isn’t our Jace.”

Nico’s expression morphs so quickly that Jason can’t keep up. A moment of panic—then a frown, and his head keeps cocking back between Thalia Grace and kind-of-sort-of Jason Grace. “What do you mean this isn’t _our_ Jace? Who’s _this_ Jace? Where’s mine?”

The way he says _mine_ makes Jason’s stomach to a somersault. He blinks again, taken aback—and in the background he sees the smile fade from Percy’s face. Reyna is pulling back in her seat, tilting her head. Annabeth stands, shutting her laptop to get a better look at him.

“Yeah, bro,” Percy says, and he frowns, gesturing at Jason. “Seriously, why are you wearing that?”

_That_ makes them uncomfortable—and Jason does the mental gymnastics in his head of—Percy is Roman, Thalia is Roman, Reyna has short hair, Annabeth might also be Roman, he’s _Nico’s—?_ —and he stares down at his robes. The ones that only a person deemed worthy often wore, and what Jason never had the chance to wear after Kymopoleia graced him with the position.

“Oh.” The thought occurs to him, and he curls his hands over the purple cloak. “This must be what they buried me in.”

Reyna’s pen drops. Annabeth has to catch her laptop from falling off the coffee table. Nico grows pale—so pale that Jason almost sees his own Nico.

“ _What_?”

*

Jason, son of Hades.

Jason, a child of Greece.

Jason Grace, a child of Hades and a child of Greece.

Nico can’t even wrap his mind around the thought—a Jason that is fully _Greek_ , let alone a son of _Hades._ This Jason is much paler, with scruffier hair and eyes void of the sky that Nico had grown used to. He’s not that golden boy, with the warm blond hair and the sun-kissed California skin and infectious grin that always made Nico tentatively smile back.

That Jason’s dead.

This Jason is the son of the King of the Underworld and—

And Nico has a headache.

He jumps high as a hand lands on his shoulder.

“You okay?” _this_ Jason asks—the one that’s still alive. The one that’s not right—not at all.

The hand on Nico’s shoulder startles him so much—so solid and palpable compared to the wisps of ghosts that Nico has grown used to accepting. He spins around to the Jason that has been shadowing him back to Camp—and puts distance between them. Stares.

Same worry lines. But the eyebrows around them are paler. Same scar, no doubt from the same stapler. On much paler lips. Same worried look of concern—and a little bit of befuddlement that used to make Nico laugh.

A pale blond eyebrow arches into the air and Nico sees that this Jason’s hand is still outreached, evidently still trying to process how swiftly Nico ducked out of his grasp.

“Sorry,” Nico says, and his hand falls to where this Jason brushed his shoulder—gentle and warm as he remembers—but also very different. “I. I don’t like being touched.”

“Oh,” this Jason says. He slowly lowers his hand, those charcoal-colored eyes blinking.

“Not by people I’m not familiar with,” Nico continues, and he digs his heels into the dirt. Has to, to keep himself grounded.

This Jason continues to stare at him, ducking his head in a slow nod. “Okay.”

And still, Nico isn’t satisfied with his own answer. Because this Jason _does_ furrow his eyebrow the same way, and he _sees_ Nico, but he can’t tell if that makes him feel better or worse. Nico’s palm presses against his own jacket and his eyes fall to his shoes.

“It’s just,” Nico starts quietly, “you aren’t…Jason. My—our Jason.”

He raises his gaze reluctantly and notices the corner of this Jason’s face twitch into the same somber smile as before.

“I get it,” this Jason reassures gently. “You aren’t my Nico.” 

_My Nico_ , he says again. The words caress Nico’s heart with a sweet flutter that makes him nauseous. Nico does everything not to glare at this Jason—because he didn’t know. He doesn’t know Nico. Not him. This Jason has his own Nico, and while he can’t stomach how _my_ and _Nico_ are coming from that same soothing voice doesn’t mean this Jason is doing it malevolently. His—their Jason, son of Jupiter isn’t—wasn’t—malevolent. Nico just knows this one isn’t, either.

“This way to the Big House,” Nico murmurs, and he gestures in a different direction.

“I know,” this Jason, son of Hades says. He wears no beads over his collarbone. His shirt is stark white and his jacket is a rich black leather—no semblance of purple or orange. But he’s more familiar with this campground than Nico is familiar with this Jason.

A little camper from the Hecate Cabin barrels into them—Lou Ellen’s little half-brother, who’s too young to know what Jason— _their_ Jason—traded to save the world.

“Nico! You missed shadowtravel class!” he says. He stops his run by throwing arms around Nico, with a smile wide across his lips. Nico can _feel_ this Jason’s eyes looking at him.

“Sorry, Felix,” Nico says. “Lou Ellen may have to teach those for a little while.”

Felix pouts—but then his eyes travel. “Who’s your friend?”

Nico’s hands curl over Felix’s shoulders. Maybe a little too tightly. “This—”

Isn’t Jason. Everyone should know Jason—but not everyone does. New campers won’t—they’ll just hear stories about the noble son of Jupiter who gave his life for Apollo’s trials—and this one isn’t it.

Before he can conjure an answer, _this_ Jason kneels at eye-level with Felix, and a smile etches across his face. From his leather jacket, he pulls out a sucker.

“Call me Jace,” he says. “I promise I won’t steal Nico’s away for too long.”

Felix tilts his head suspiciously—and with a childish glee, snatches the sucker from this Jason— _Jace’s_ —hand. “Thank you!”

He toddles off in the opposite direction and disappears in a mix of mist and shadows. All the while, Jace stuffs his hands back in his pockets and Nico can hear the quiet rustling.

“Shadowtravel classes, huh?” Jace murmurs fondly. “Didn’t know that could go over well here.”

Nico stares, unsure of what to make of what he just saw. Jace turns his gaze back to Nico, an ease to his smile that Nico’s missed so much—and Nico is sure to shut the door on that before he can miss more.

“C’mon,” Jace says—and suddenly, he’s leading.

Mr. D and Chiron just stare at them when they arrive.

“I really don’t think this good for your mental health,” Mr. D says immediately, and Nico pretends Jace isn’t suddenly looking at him again. But then, Mr. D stares at Jace, too, and one of his eyebrows arches into the air. “I see _you_ finally stopped compartmentalizing, Mister Green.”

_Compartmentalizing_? Nico turns his head to Jace, who doesn’t seem fazed by the words.

The corner of Jace’s lips etches into a quiet, muted smile. “I try my best every day, sir.”

Mr. D weighs his words carefully and nods in agreement. He’s not as derisive as he is with Percy. “ _Trying_ is always the hardest, Mister Grace. I commend you for getting that far.”

“So you don’t know why he’s here?” Nico asks—because Jace is far too familiar with Mr. D, and Mr. D is just _accepting_ that. “You don’t know why he’s not—he’s not in Elysium?”

“Oh,” Jace suddenly says again—and he sounds shocked. “I’m dead here?”

Mr. D and Chiron stare at Nico. Nico stifles the urge to punch himself. Jace looks at him—not necessarily like he’s panicked or shocked, or like he’s been hit like a freight train. More confusion, than anything.

“Well the Underworld isn’t _my_ area of expertise,” Mr. D says. Much like sobriety, Mr. D’s concern for them dwindles quickly and he waves his hand. “Go clock in and be a hero. Be sure to ask Dad to lighten my sentence if that’s where you end up. Make sure to write in your journal about how you’re feeling, Mister di Angelo.” He pauses, then stares at Jace ambiguously. “I assume _you’re_ abiding by those suggestions.”

“Every night, sir,” Jace says familiarly, and Nico’s head throbs.

With the two camp directors being no help, Nico relocates them to the porch. He rubs circles into his temples. “We should get everyone together to discuss this.”

The word _everyone_ makes Jace nod understandingly, while Nico tries to do the mental math. He’s pained by it.

“Piper and Leo can probably get here by Festus,” he says. “But I don’t know how long it’ll take them to fly.”

“Festus,” Jace says, as though trying to test out the name. “Okay.”

“Frank and Hazel are in New Rome,” Nico continues. “Percy and Annabeth start winter break soon. They’ll be here within a few days, I’m sure.”

That catches Jace off guard, apparently. “Why are Frank and Hazel in New Rome?”

“Praetor stuff,” Nico says—and when he looks back up, Jace is staring at him in more confusion.

“What about Thalia and Reyna?” Jace asks.

Nico’s throat constricts, and he curls his fists so it isn’t obvious that they’re shaking. He pushes hair out of his face. “They’re—they’re probably busy. But I can ask Annabeth to get ahold of her. She—she should know that you’re here.”

“And what about Bianca?”

Nico’s stomach twists in knots. His hands loosen at his side. He snaps his head back to Jace quickly—and the other boy blinks with confusion. Jace stares back at him, with eyes as dark as flint and a bliss in the way he says that name. Nico’s throat swells for a moment, and his heart is trembling.

_Not his fault. Not his fault. Nothisfault. Nothisfaultnothisfaulthe’sdeadtoo—_

“Bianca is dead,” Nico finally says, and he pushes the thought out of his mind.

“Oh.” This time, Jace’s eyes widen, and his posture slackens. He reaches out with a hand again—but stops short with the memory that Nico doesn’t _like_ being touched. 

“I,” Nico starts slowly, and he swallows hard, “take it she’s alive there?”

For a moment, Nico can believe it. This Jace _is_ a son of Hades, with the grim look in his eyes and a curl to his lip that makes the goosebumps rise against Nico’s skin—probably in the same way he makes them rise for others.

“I’m sorry, Nico—”

“You didn’t know,” Nico finishes quietly, and his eyes dart elsewhere. “I’m just—I’m trying to figure this out. We need to figure out why you’re here and alive, and why my—our Jason—is…”

“Not here?” Jace finishes for him. Gently.

Nico’s chest tightens again. His eyes sting.

_Something_ looks like it strikes a chord with Jace. He stares at Nico, _really_ stares at him, like Jason used to, and lowers his head. And again, has a simple answer. “Okay.” 

*

Jason stares at the stunned faces sitting across from him in the praetor house after explaining himself. He palms his chest without really meaning to as Caligula’s name passes between his lips—but it rolls steadily. Maybe too steadily.

“It was either going to be Piper,” Jason says, “or me. Her dad was already going through hell—no pun intended—”

Jason darts his attention back to Roman Thalia, who hasn’t left his side for even a moment. Her expression is grim—Jason’s seen plenty of times on Hazel and Nico’s faces when it came to their father’s realm. He has the vague realization that here, in this universe, it technically applies to him, too.

“—I couldn’t give the burden of Mr. McLean losing his daughter, too,” Jason finishes.

Thalia’s expression is soft and quiet, charcoal eyes downcast towards the ground. There’s a hand over her own heart, since he spoke of the spear that pierced him. Annabeth’s eyes are rimmed red—and Jason catches a glimpse of an owl and one stripe over the inside of her arm as she clasps a palm over her mouth. Percy’s eyes flit to her briefly—but ultimately, his eyes fall on to Nico.

Blue-eyed ( _Praetor_ ) Nico, who sits at the edge of his chair, hanging onto every word without even the slightest smile.

Reyna reaches over and brushes a hand against Thalia’s shoulder. Without even looking, Jason’s big sister laces their fingers together, and he blinks at the intimate gesture.

“You made a sacrifice,” Reyna concludes. She gestures to the twelve stripes on Jason’s arm. “How Roman of you.”

Thalia flips his arm over and counts every line. There’s… _something_ to her expression. “Twelve stripes, huh, baby brother?”

She shirks off her leather jacket and allows Jason to count hers. As he reaches the last two bars—he stops and counts them again. And again.

“Ten,” Jason says, when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long. His eyes widen. “Did we grow up together here?”

Her eyebrows furrow and her smile saddens.

It’s Praetor Nico who answers. “No. In this universe, you’re Greek. You’re a son of Hades.”

He’s fiddling with something on his wrist. An assortment of colorful beads that Jason didn’t notice before. If he stares long enough, he could probably count them—but Praetor Nico catches him staring and quickly pulls his sleeve back down.

Annabeth reaches out and places a hand over his. “ _We_ grew up together, Jace.”

Jason stares at her in surprise. “We did?”

Her smile fades ever so slightly, her stormy eyes dimming, and she nods her head in a slow acknowledgement. “You showed me around camp when we were little. We fought Kronos together. We—” She’s careful, for some reason, at the second part of her sentence. “We fought Luke together.”

The name vaguely rings a bell. “That Hermes boy. The one that you and Percy knew.”

At the mention of his own name, Roman Percy snaps his head back to Jason, confused. “Beth and I?”

_Beth_? Jason looks at him, then to Annabeth—who also seems to have a hard time processing that. Okay. Weird—his Percy and Annabeth are joined at the hip.

“Parallel universes, guys,” Praetor Nico says, and he pushes the hair out of his face, the smile from before gone. His demeanor is more calculative—more like the Nico that Jason _does_ know. “Jace—this Jason—he’s from a different Earth. He’s a son of Jupiter. He’s different.”

He gestures at Jason, his voice pointed. Gone is the smile from his face from earlier. It’s _striking_ how similar he is to Jason’s own Nico, the son of Hades—and yet still so different.

“So everything else must be different,” Praetor Nico concludes.

“Wow, Neeks,” Roman Percy muses. “Looks like all of those comic books finally came in handy.”

Jason’s eyes dart between the pair, and he does a double take. There’s a concentrated way that Roman Percy reaches to squeeze Praetor Nico’s shoulder—and while Jason’s seen his own Nico shirk away from Percy’s touch, this one leans in.

He’s at a loss for words. Praetor Nico is fiddling with the beads at his wrist again, but looks…antsy.

“How’d you know I was a son of Jupiter?” Jason asks—which garners the attention of everyone in the room. Praetor Nico arches an eyebrow, then gestures to Jason’s forearm. “Oh. Right.”

For however many years that Jason has stepped down, the tattoo still feels as fresh as the first day he got it. He can remember holding back tears at the age of four and pretending that the burn didn’t hurt. He’d forgotten it in the wake of Thalia finding him near Pluto’s crypt.

“If you’re here,” Praetor Nico says, and he slowly raises his gaze again, “then Jace _has_ to be in your universe.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. “Yes. But I’m dead there.”

The room grows starkly quiet. Praetor Nico’s eyes narrow at him, lips curling into an unhappy frown—and Jason thinks he sees the ceiling lights flicker.

“Jace isn’t dead,” Praetor Nico says. Insists.

“Not saying he is.” Jason backtracks quickly, and sidles back into the armchair as he notices Beth’s also storm over with a maternal care that he isn’t used to. His gaze darts over to Thalia, who sports the same look as in front of the praetor house—the one where she pondered on why she didn’t protect him. “At any rate, I’m here. And he’s there—Underworld-or-not-pending. Someone swapped us for a reason.”

Praetor Nico’s gaze flickers momentarily and he fiddles with his bracelet again, so similarly to how Jason’s Nico fiddles with his skull ring. “A god.”

“Probably a god,” Jason agrees. “They must not be done with me if they put me here. If we figure out which god—whatever they need done, then you’ll get your Jason back. I’ll go back there.”

Praetor Nico’s azure eyes flit back to him—and although Jason knows this Nico isn’t his own, Praetor Nico’s gaze is still as haunting.

Thalia places a hand on Jason’s shoulder and gives it a reaffirming squeeze. “So where do we start, baby brother?”

Jason considers this for a second. He thinks he sees Praetor Nico’s own wheels spinning. Slowly, he casts a glance down to his tattoo again, and Jason rubs a hand over the ink.

“The Queen of Swaps herself,” Jason decides. “My stepmom.”

To his surprise, Praetor Nico matches his vibrato, nodding his head slowly with agreement.

“Juno,” Praetor Nico says. “Mammina.”

*

They gather slowly.

The first person Nico calls is Percy—which, he’s reluctant to do. Percy and Annabeth have been enjoying college. They’ve moved past the struggles of being a demigod. They said _no_ to helping Apollo with his trials, finally trying to _move on_ with their lives. They get there within the hour, with Percy’s voice striking the same chord and intensity as it did in the last two wars.

Jace sits patiently on the porch, watching Nico pace back and forth as he tries to get in touch with people. Frank and Hazel promise to wrap up their praetor duties and leave the centurions to watch over what little of the Legion is left after the war. Hazel promises to get in touch with Leo, who no doubt will come in tandem with Piper.

“What about Thalia and Reyna?” Jace asks when Nico gets to the end of his short mental list.

Nico pauses in the pathway, not quite able to meet this Jason in the eye. He thinks the mention of Bianca made this Jason _more_ concerned, which…Nico doesn’t like.

A world, where Jason is alive. A world, where _Bianca_ is alive. Jason and Bianca—two of the most important people in Nico’s life. The sister, who sent him down on a terrible spiral, and Jason, the boy who…who…

“They’re hard to get ahold of,” Nico says finally—but he leaves out the part where he doesn’t often _try._ The last time he tried to get ahold of Thalia was through Clovis through a dream. “Even if I sent Thalia an Iris Message, I doubt she’d pick up.”

And, Nico’s afraid of what to say if Reyna _does_.

“Really?” Jace sounds perplexed.

“They’re with the Huntresses.” Nico smiles grimly, still pacing the length of the Big House to work out the restlessness picking at him. “Who knows if Artemis would even let them pick up a message from a boy.”

The inquiry halts in that moment. It’s so deafly quiet that Nico stops in his tracks.

“They’re with the Huntresses,” Jace reiterates slowly.

“Annabeth will have a better chance of getting ahold of them,” Nico says with finality. He turns his gaze to Jace, whose eyebrows knit together with quiet worry, and lips curl, deep in thought.

And of course he is. Jace is in a universe where he’s _dead._ Nico stupidly let that fact spill from his lips because he’s had to deal with that reality for _months_ now. Jason is dead. Jason is _dead._ This Jason isn’t his.

_Theirs_ , he corrects in his head.

“Do you want to talk about this?” Jace all of a sudden, and Nico pauses again, as he realizes he’s pacing through a patch of wilted grass.

He looks up, and Jace’s eyes are just filled with sheer concern. The question is innocent but makes Nico ache anyway. Jason promised to be here to talk with him. He promised to be a friend since Croatia. Promised to just be a friend— _only_ a friend—

And Nico pushes the thought out of his head. If he thinks too much, it doesn’t end.

“It’ll be easier when everyone gets here,” Nico says with finality.

Percy and Annabeth arrive first. There’s a way that their hair sticks in different directions, windswept and a little crazy that Nico can’t tell if they got caught by a monster attack or if Percy decided to go thirty over the speed limit to make it here.

They stop dead in their tracks the same way Nico did. Percy’s wearing a sweatshirt that says New Rome University on it. Annabeth wears a backpack large enough to fit a hellhound.

Jace stands to his feet, a quiet smile to his lips. He lifts a hand to wave. “Hi—”

“Holy Hera,” Percy murmurs. “Fuck, Jason.”

And then they charge him. Annabeth sobs loudly, the tears spilling down her face as they both split through the path to the Big House and throw their arms around Jace. The force of their emotions is strong—Jace almost topples to the left, as Percy collides with him, and then to the right as Annabeth holds him.

“Oh,” Jace says, and his eyes turn to Nico worriedly. His demeanor diminishes for a moment, as the tears are apparent. “Okay.”

“How are you here? Why are you so pale? _Dude_ ,” Percy says—and Annabeth studies him.

“You’re not our Jason,” Annabeth surmises quickly, and she wipes her tears with her palms.

Our Jason. Nico’s chest aches.

Again, Jace’s eyes lift to Nico, as though asking for guidance, and he smiles sadly. “No, I’m not. Sorry.”

Hazel and Frank appear next, erupting from the shadows of the Big House as the sky turns a soft orange. She greets Nico first, her gold eyes blending with the hue of the sky, and Nico holds her tight. Tighter than he normally does.

“It’s been a while,” she whispers into his neck. “How are you holding up?”

Nico’s eyes sting again. She’s not looking towards the Big House—but she knows.

“I’m here,” he promises her.

She stares at him worriedly and kisses him on the cheek all the same.

“Hey, Nico,” Frank offers tiredly.

“Hey, Frank,” Nico bids back. He clears his throat, hoping to sound less distraught. As he looks back to the Big House, he notices Jace’s gaze, soaking in what he can from a distance.

Jace raises his hand once more—and the reaction is more or less the same. Something that this Jason isn’t expecting. Hazel’s hand curls protectively over Nico’s own, but Frank’s jaw hangs.

“Oh,” Frank suddenly whispers, his voice tight. “Jason.”

“He’s not—” Hazel squints carefully. “He’s not dead. But that aura around him…”

“Death,” Nico confirms. “A different kind. He’s a son of Hades.”

_Jason Grace_ and _Son of Hades_ just don’t feel like they should go together. Not New Rome’s _Golden Boy_ who served twelve years in the Legion before going down the path to honoring gods of both pantheons. This one isn’t branded by tattoos on his arms. There aren’t any beads around his collarbone, and his white shirt is stark. He’s not _burdened_ with being the son of _The_ God. He’s not Jason.

They congregate in the Big House, clocking in their _hero_ card as Mr. D suggests. Jace sits in the center of their set up of chairs, surrounded by teary-eyed faces without a word to be spoken. His shirt is soaked, but he takes it in stride with the tense air.

Every once in a while, Nico catches Jace staring at him with worry. He has to look away.

“Piper and Leo will be here within the next hour or so,” Hazel announces. “Festus isn’t exactly as fast as shadowtraveling.”

“Ah,” is all Jace says—and the room seems to gather with tears again from every small, livid noise.

Hazel’s gold eyes glimmer for a moment, and she pushes hair behind her ear before leaning into Frank. “Just…I can’t even imagine what’s going through their heads right now. Especially Piper.”

Nico shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his chest tightening. He watches as Annabeth and Hazel exchange sorrowful looks.

“What about Thalia?” Jace asks, and he turns to Annabeth, who startles.

“Couldn’t get a hold of her,” Annabeth says. She smiles weakly at him, her hand tightening over Percy’s. “I’ll try again after this. She needs to see you.”

There’s a quiet tension to Jace’s face, but he nods slowly. “Thanks, Beth.”

Annabeth blinks.

Jace looks around the room—at all of the faces now that five of the Seven are here. His gaze lingers once more at Nico, and Nico tries his best to look back. Everyone does, in some capacity.

Percy’s expression has been grim since they arrived. Annabeth looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Frank has had to excuse himself more than once. Hazel’s grip hasn’t wavered over Nico’s own—and if it’s too quiet for too long, they could mistake him as a ghost instead of a version of their friend who’s a son of Hades.

“So,” Jace starts, when the silence becomes too thick again. “I guess I’m dead here.”

It drops the other foot, somehow. Percy breaks his gaze and looks at Annabeth. Annabeth looks to Frank. Frank looks to Hazel, and Hazel—keeps her gaze on Nico.

“Dude,” Percy says, and his voice is terse. “You’re not just dead, you—you sacrificed yourself. You died, with a capital D. You—you helped Apollo, Hazel and Frank—New Rome held a funeral for you—”

“Percy,” Nico interrupts. “You don’t need to overwhelm him.”

Nico doesn’t want to hear the details of the story again. They watch as Jace’s eyes change, soaking in the information. Frank scoots closer to the edge of his seat, while Percy sinks in his own. Then Frank furtively tells the story about Caligula’s rise and end.

Jace sits on his stool, arms crossed over his chest and legs propped out in a way Nico’s seen on Jason before. He crosses his legs at the ankle and nods at every detail—how Piper and their Jason fought Caligula, and aided Apollo. When Frank arrives at the details of Jason’s death, there’s hesitation.

“From what Apollo said,” Frank says, and he swallows a lump, trying hard to continue throughout the sadness with a neutral face, “it—it was pretty brutal. Your body washed up ashore, and there was just…so much blood.”

Jace is quiet. Then he asks, “Was it closed-casket?”

They all stare at him. Annabeth’s gray eyes are rimmed with red. Percy’s leer is almost daunting, but his hands curl into fists over his lap, knuckles pale. Nico’s throat grows dry—and for the casual way Jace asks about his _own funeral_ , he can’t muster a response.

“Closed casket.” This time, Hazel _does_ cock her head towards Jace, her eyebrows furrowed together. “I helped bring you to New Rome. We celebrated your life.”

“Got it,” Jace says, and he’s quiet again. Slowly, he plants his feet to the ground. “I’m…sorry guys, about what happened to your Jason. He sounds like he was a good person. It sounds like he was willing to give up everything to protect Piper.”

Nico doesn’t know what’s worse: seeing such a wrong version of his own Jason, or hearing Jace dismiss his own death so easily.

“How did you get here, man?” Percy asks. Otherwise, the room falls all too quiet again.

Jace makes a face. “Honestly, I’m not sure. One moment I was shadowtraveling down to the Underworld, and the next, I wound up here, in this Camp Halfblood. I should be baking cookies with Alecto right now.”

They all look around the room at each other. Nico feels eyes on himself— _all_ of them—and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“What?” he asks.

“Well,” Hazel starts. “You’re kind of the Underworld expert here, big brother.”

“You’re telling me Mrs. Dobbs likes cookies?” Percy interjects, and his face stretches in confusion.

Blond eyebrows furrow together and Jace looks confused once more. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Nico admits, getting their conversation back on track. He taps his foot impatiently into the wooden floor and fiddles with his skull ring. “I guess…mortals have different ideas of what the afterlife should be. We have the Underworld. The Catholics believe in hell. The Vikings—”

He gestures to Annabeth.

“—they have Valhalla. Death is connected, in the vaguest sense. Maybe shadows are, too. No matter the universe.” Nico fiddles with his ring. “You took the wrong out and ended up in _this_ world instead of the Underworld.”

“Universe,” Hazel repeats.

“Parallel universes,” Jace corrects—and the tiny smile on his face makes Nico’s heart flutter.

“Maybe someone made you take the wrong out,” Annabeth interjects. Her eyebrows furrow with disdain. “A god. Again.”

Percy shakes his head, a grim smile across his face. “It figures you’d die, and the gods _still_ aren’t done with you.”

There’s a tepidness to Jace’s demeanor, soft and somber in the hue of his eyes. Nico remembers it well in his own Jason—how with every smile their Jason Grace shared, his eyes still seemed to ooze with a quiet solemnity.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jace offers.

They all cock their head to him.

“What, parallel universes?” Percy asks.

“No,” Jace says, and he shrugs. “The meddling part.”

His eyebrows furrow together, and finally—even Jace seems bothered by this situation. But it fades quickly.

“I guess,” Jace says finally, “we should figure out what god put me here, and then I can go home.”

The room is quiet again as they take in the words. Nico’s hands curl at his sides, and he notices Percy’s face shrivel. Frank’s demeanor wanes, but there’s a calmness to it that’s developed in his time as praetor. Nico remembers it all too well on Jason’s own face. Their Jason.

“Yeah, man,” Percy finally says, and he clears his throat. “We’ll get you home.”

They’ll let Jason leave them a second time.

Jace sports an odd look with the way Percy addresses him—but then turns his gaze back to Nico for guidance. “Where do we start?”

Every other set of eyes follow in suit. Nico hesitates before standing back to his feet.

“Probably with the last god who ever saw our Jason,” Nico guesses. “Apollo.”

*

They go back to Temple Hill the long way. Jason absorbs everything that feels the same—and off, in one way or another. The red porticos on the rooftops of New Rome buildings are a slightly darker shade of scarlet. The Garden of Bacchus has more azaleas than it does roses. Everything is skewed just _ever so slightly_ from the New Rome that Jason grew up with—

But the biggest difference is in front of him. Thalia, with the ten stripes on her forearm rather than a quiver over her shoulder and a silver circlet. With a few more worried lines below her eyes that he never quite saw in his Thalia—Lieutenant to Artemis first, and always his big sister second. Roman Percy, with six stripes on his arm and a trident, rather than the camp beads that Jason remembers.

Roman Praetor Nico, with color to his skin and a fullness to his face—near unrecognizable to Jason before he opens his mouth. Short-haired Reyna has an arm slung over him, speaking in hushed tones. Which—of all things, makes sense to Jason.

He’s just a little lost when he sees Reyna reach over and tenderly touch Thalia’s cheek to get her attention.

And how Roman Percy throws an arm around Roman Nico when the praetor is quiet for too long.

And how this big sister Thalia reaches out to touch Roman Nico’s shoulder, to grab his attention, when Jason’s never seen either of them in the same room.

And how Annabeth falls back to walk in tandem with Jason. She stares at him, her eyes glinting their stormy hue as he absorbs everything in front of him. “How are you holding up?”

“I—” Jason resists the urge to run a hand over where Thalia touched him. She was reluctant to release her vice grip. “I’m not sure.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. It’s been intense since the day Jason met her—but he’s used to that gaze directed at one son of Poseidon. Who—here, is a son of Neptune. And he’s apparently a son of Hades. Annabeth, though—with her cloudy eyes, is still very much Greek and a daughter of Athena.

“You can tell me,” Annabeth says slowly, “if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

The group in front of them stops—Nico, first. Then Thalia. Reyna and Percy follow in suit.

Again, her gaze is glued on Jason. He swallows.

“No,” Jason lies, and his hand fumbles over his chest. “I’m good.”

Annabeth frowns. It’s unsettling.

“I’m a little weirded out,” Jason admits finally—which helps alleviate some of her ire. “We grew up together?”

The corner of her lip etches into a mirthful smile, eyebrows furrowing together, like there’s no other possible conclusion. “We’ve known each other since we were seven. Who else would you’ve grown up with?”

“I…” Jason tries to reach for the names in camp—all of the ones that came flooding back to him when he first lost his memories. “The Fifth Cohort. Gwen and Dakota—but—”

But not close enough for them to look at him with the same concern that Annabeth does.

“—but things happened with the prophecy,” Jason finishes. “Percy and I got swapped, and…when Gaea was slain, I couldn’t leave fast enough.”

Her smile fades at that, but he isn’t sure at which part.

“But I’m a Child of Greece and Rome,” Jason continues. “I took the position of Pontifex. I promised to go back and forth between both camps and honor all of the gods.”

“Hold it,” Thalia interjects. She stares at Jason incredulously. “You and Kelp Brain got swapped?”

“You go back and forth between camps?” Percy asks, evidently confused.

“You’re serving all of the gods,” Reyna repeats. “As the Pontifex.”

“I mean—that was the plan. I never got the chance to.” Jason takes in all of the eyes looking at him—who stare at him as though he’s grown a second head. His hand rubs his chest again. “I told Apollo where my sketchbooks were. Hopefully he remembered to grab them.”

“You died knowingly,” cuts in Praetor Nico’s voice.

Jason peers back and notices Praetor Nico staring at him grimly. The pit of his own stomach twists, and the words lapse in his mind. Jason had known for weeks that he was going to die—and even prepared for it in every way that he could. His fate was a mantra. Piper, or him. Him, or Piper. Never Piper. Always him.

But staring back at Praetor Nico, that mantra disappears.

“I. _I_ died,” Jason says, when Praetor Nico’s gaze doesn’t falter. “I chose that. Your Jason is still alive.”

The corners of Praetor Nico’s lips wrinkle into a frown, and he doesn’t say much else. Instead, he turns his head and keeps walking. All three other Roman demigods stare off after him and tail after his brisk pace. Only Annabeth stays.

“What’d I say?” Jason asks, frustrated. “I’m not _that_ Jason. Everything I say makes him angry.”

He’s played that game already—trying to _be_ the right person for someone else. Jason’s perfected it so well that he doesn’t realize when he’s participating anymore—but the disappointment is just too great when he doesn’t get it right.

“In this universe,” Annabeth starts, “you moved here after the war with Gaea. You’re not a pontifex.”

Jason’s eyebrows knit together. His chest aches, for some reason. “I joined the Legion again.”

“No,” Annabeth says. “You hardly serve the gods anymore.”

“Then why would I move?”

But this Annabeth—the one Roman Percy so affectionately called _Beth_ —mirrors his frown. “Why else, Jace? To get to know Thalia.”

Oh. Jason blinks in surprise as the words soak in. He lowers his head slowly, but as the realization settles, in he notices that Beth is still assessing him. In her eyes, her logic is sound, whereas every oddity lies in Jason’s own reactions.

“I didn’t know that was even an option,” Jason admits. Because it isn’t. Even less now since he’s supposed to be dead. Jason rubs his forehead, trying his best to wrap his mind around it. How Thalia caressed his wrist gently. How she keeps _looking_ at him, with every bit of time in the world. He’s not used to it.

He's not used to Beth staring at him so much, either.

“In my world,” Jason continues, “you knew Thalia. Not me.”

Beth continues to frown, because _that_ apparently goes against her logic. Her gaze is filled with a concern that he isn’t used to. “Well that doesn’t seem right.”

Jason reassesses her—in her NRU Architecture purple sweatshirt and the ten beads around her neck. He _knows_ Annabeth—but not quite in the way Piper knew her. In the months leading up to going to New Rome again, Annabeth’s thoughts were on finding Percy—with the fearful thought that Percy might’ve forgotten her, too. The thought of a Roman camp made her nervous—because a Roman son being thrown into Camp Halfblood threatened her Greek home—the one Jason immensely grew to love.

He catches a glance at the owl inked on her arm, along with the one stripe, and the realization hits him.

“You got swapped,” he says. Jason’s not even sure how that works.

Beth stares down to the tattoo like it’s nothing more than a new freckle. Jason’s seen Percy do the same a million times. And she smiles. “Glad to know you’re still smart, Jace.”

Gods, is it weird to hear them refer to him like that. Jason’s ears redden at the reminder that he dumbly asked how Praetor Nico knew who his dad was so quickly. Maybe it was the startling eyes, or the way this Nico gestured so similarly to his same Nico that halted his thoughts.

This world is different. Very, very different.

Where he’s a son of Hades, where he grew up in _Camp Halfblood_ of all places, where Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena is his best friend, and they apparently faced _Kronos_ together. Not Krios.

And another daft thought occurs to Jason as they finally make it to Temple Hill. Jason almost short-circuits because of it.

“We’re not dating, are we?” Jason asks. Because—somehow, despite the fact Percy and he didn’t swap camps, they _did_ swap lives. Roman Percy Jackson, son of Neptune and Greek Jason Grace, son of Hades. But Annabeth was with him—and if Annabeth and he are close…

Again, Roman Percy, Thalia, Nico, and Reyna all turn to look at him. Jason almost doesn’t notice the way Praetor Nico’s eyebrow raises.

Beth matches it perfectly, looking like she’s holding back a laugh.

“ _No_ , Jace—Jason,” she corrects herself. She splits into a grin. “You’re like my little brother. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” Jason says, and he sighs with relief. Still—his ears maintain their scarlet hue. _Little brother_ is still much closer with _Beth_ than it is with Annabeth.

Off in the distance, he sees Roman Percy stifling a laugh of his own, his lips in a wobbly line. Thalia hits his left arm, Reyna his right. Praetor Nico’s mouth moves—and Jason can vaguely make out the request, _Shut up, Percy._

As they approach, Jason swallows hard.

Juno Moneta. The One Who Warns.

He can’t remember the last time he sat below her statue—but she’s been in his nightmares many times, reminding him that his life is her appeasement. That Jason lived to serve her, and her alone—with nothing else echoing of his life before the Wolf House other than his last name. The one that his Thalia never again wore.

The pit of his stomach swells as he stares at her smooth statue and the delicate cape of peacock feathers. Jason’s seen this statue a million times in passing. He’s not sure if he’s feeling sentimental…but nauseous.

Before Jason realizes it, he’s stepping back and inching towards Thalia.

She notices immediately. “You okay?”

So immediately, that it startles Jason more. He wipes his sweaty palms on his robes and jerks with a nod. “Yeah. I. It’s just. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to her. I’m not even sure if this will work.”

Thalia stares back at him with her charcoal eyes, her lips contorted into a small frown. She reaches out and gives his hand a soft squeeze.

Praetor Nico stares up at the Juno Moneta. Then—out of nowhere, he whips something out from who-knows-where and places it at her feet. “Mammina. Do you have time for an audience?”

Nothing happens.

Jason stares at the way Praetor Nico takes the time to wipe dirt off the steps and fluffs lotus flowers. He inspects the item that Nico placed on his stepmother’s brazier. “Is that a pomegranate? From Persephone’s Garden?”

Nico stares back at him with confusion, so Jason decides that _no_ , it’s probably not from the Queen of the Underworld’s garden. “Pomegranates are a symbol of Juno.”

Right. “I knew that.” Jason resists the urge to smack himself. So much for making the promise that he’s honoring _all_ of the gods.

The statue suddenly glimmers. Jason looks away instinctively—he learned after the first time. The whole temple of Juno Moneta glows like a camera flash, then—

“ _Passerotto!”_ comes in a sweet, adoring voice that makes Jason blink.

Juno stands there in her perfect glory, not one hair out of place and every detail of her makeup sketched perfectly. The cape of peacock feathers flutters over her shoulders, almost alive, and the lotus that was once at her feet now sits at the top of her staff—perfect and pristine, as though it’d never been plucked from the waters.

“Um,” Jason says, when he finds his words. He goes forward to kneel. “Queen Juno—”

Juno cuts him off. For as many demigods that are in her temple, she addresses Praetor Nico only, her voice coming out in warm saccharine trills that make Jason do a double take. She talks so fast that Jason doesn’t think they’re even speaking English.

And they’re not.

When Praetor Nico responds, Jason realizes it’s Italian. Praetor Nico goes from having his hands tucked beneath his arms to gesturing with one hand—then both—in response to Juno. The Queen of the Heavens waggles one finger.

“Hmph.” Praetor Nico’s face scrunches.

Jason’s gaze darts back and forth between the pair, stunned. Finally, his brain catches up to him as he tries to parse out what little Italian he knows.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “Are you calling the Queen of the Heavens _Mommy_?”

Both _Mommy_ and apparent _Son_ stare back at him, the same eyebrow arched in the air.

“What happened to this one?” Queen Juno asks, and she waves her staff vaguely in Jason’s direction. “How _handsome_ you look now!”

To even more of Jason’s surprise, Praetor Nico places a hand on his chest, offended. “There was nothing wrong with him in the first place!”

“He has a healthy dose of sunlight on him,” she protests—pecks, like a motherhen. “Honestly, _passerotto_ , all of that time spent inside is _unhealthy_. You should _really_ get out more. Vitamin D is important to your—”

_“Mammina_ ,” Praetor Nico cuts in with exasperation. “This isn’t Jace.”

Juno looks annoyed at being interrupted—which Jason knows all too well. Then she turns her gaze, as rigid and analytical as Praetor Nico. She reaches out and cups Jason’s chin—and her eyes storm with disdain.

“Ah,” Juno finally says, and her eyes brim murderously. “You have my husband’s eyes.”

Thalia is quick to cut in.

“This is still my brother, Queen Juno.” She’s protective as she places a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “But—a different one. Nico thinks this Jason is from a parallel universe.”

That alleviates some of the hostility in Juno’s eyes—the kind Jason’s only dreamed about. The Queen of the Heavens scrutinizes Jason carefully—from cheek-to-cheek to forehead and nose. Then, she turns her gaze back to Praetor Nico.

“You always were a smart one, my little sparrow,” Juno says. “I suppose you’re right. This isn’t Hades’s son. He’s certainly not mine.”

Suddenly the wind knocks out of Jason. He’s so stunned that he loses his words.

“Jason?”

He doesn’t snap out of it until he hears Praetor Nico’s voice. Until he realizes Praetor Nico’s palm is still on his chest.

“Sorry,” Jason says carefully. “Jupiter and my mom…they named me after your favorite hero. In my world, I’m your champion. You guided me to the Wolf House when I was two.”

He feels Thalia’s grip loosen over his shoulder. Nico’s gaze lingering on him. The silence behind him is palpable.

“Holy _Romulus_ , Grace,” Roman Percy suddenly pipes up. “ _Two?_ ”

“I’ve been yours since I was two. Longer.” Jason finally kneels, his palm against the marble floor. “I guess—I guess things are different here.”

Things are very, very different. If he’s not a son of Jupiter, or Juno’s champion—Jason isn’t quite sure _what_ that makes him.

Beth’s touch is the last thing he expects. “Alecto brought you to Camp Halfblood when you were two. After your mother died.”

Jason thinks Roman Percy said it best. _Holy Romulus._ He’s not sure that makes him feel any better. No—it very much shakes him.

Juno inspects him carefully once again, her fingers scaling up her staff. “Yes. As you speak, I see your feats. Your triumphs. Your failures. Impressively few of those, I might add.”

In lighter circumstances, Jason might actually laugh. One of the rare instances he’s finally receiving Juno’s praise—and it’s from a one who never meddled with his life. He just needed to be _dead_ to finally hear it.

“Alas, your time serving the gods has ended,” Juno says with finality. She crosses her arms over her teal gown. “I’m sure you expected to wake up in Elysium enjoying the perfect cup of hot cocoa and the rest of your days in peace.”

Jason’s brow furrows at her words. “But something brought me here. Someone swapped me with this world’s Jason for a reason.”

“Well why would _I_ know anything about a _swap_?” Juno asks, her hand placed carefully over her chest.

Everyone stares at her.

“Mammina,” Nico starts. He sighs and massages his temples. “I—”

“Queen Juno,” Jason interrupts—because he’s not sure if he can handle another surreal conversation of Praetor Nico and the Queen—who speak with a familiarity that Jason finds himself envying. “I know I don’t belong here. If you have any hint of how I could get back…or how this world can get their Jason back, please let us know. Is there a quest? Another great prophecy?”

Juno stares at him, much more curt than with her other stepson. She shrugs. “Perhaps there was a reason. Or none at all. I know nothing about this, Jason Grace.”

The explanation irks him. Jason’s stomach twists in knots again, and his lips twitch into a frown. “But—you swapped me once. For a war. There has to be a reason behind this, too.”

Upon insistence, Jason thinks he sees Juno grow irritated—but it diminishes quickly into an undeserved exasperation. “The last time I swapped two demigods—”

She gestures to Reyna and Beth—which Jason thinks he’s going to have to unpack later.

“—I wanted to reunite my family. My Greek and Roman children.” Juno turns her gaze once more, and Jason turns to realize she’s staring at Thalia. “You’re already among family, Jason. If I were the one to _swap_ you, you’d be exactly where I wanted you to be.”

But she’s not. Jason’s eyebrows furrow—and for every flutter his heart has at the privilege of finally growing up with his big sister, his stomach makes him feel nauseous.

“Now, if there’s nothing else you have for me, I’ll be off.” Juno stares forlornly at Nico. “ _Do_ call more often, passerroto. I get lonely.”

Nico eyes her warily, once again crossing his arms defiantly over his chest.

With another dazzling glimmer, the Queen of the Heavens disappears—replaced by the cold, unassuming statue that Jason is familiar with. She takes Jason’s calm with it. His gaze remains at her starch face and the image of the lotus in her palm. His hands shake, and his head starts to pound, restless.

He doesn’t realize he’s silent for long, until Thalia is reaching for his shoulder again. “Jason—”

“We’ll get your Jason back,” Jason announces—and he begins to pace the length of the temple. “If Juno isn’t the goddess—then it could be someone else. He’s a son of Hades, right? So, maybe Hades, or—”

Jason hesitates for a moment before his gaze darts to the Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

“—or it could be Jupiter,” he says, hoping they don’t notice him stumble. “We could ask Rachel if she knows of any prophecies. Or perform an augury. We just need to figure out what the timeline is on this—and how long it’ll take to bring your Jason back here. And I’ll go back.”

“Jason.”

He startles again as Praetor Nico stops his pacing. The hand on Jason’s bicep is firm—and Praetor Nico’s gaze is intense. All of them—Roman Percy, Childhood Friend Beth, Short-haired Reyna, _Big Sister Thalia_ —watch him in his ministrations.

“I believe you,” Praetor Nico says. “We’re going to get Jace back. But what’s going to happen to you?”

For some reason, the question confounds Jason. He stares back at this Nico—the one with the startling azure eyes. Eyes that they share, but Juno so clearly preferred one set over the other. It’s on a face that Jason knew he’d miss in death—and just the slightest brush of his fingers still makes Jason’s pulse race. But—he made peace with his decision a long time ago. And he’s been echoing that sentiment since his arrival.

“Jace comes back here,” Jason says slowly, “and I go back to being dead.”

*

They go to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asks, when he notices Nico lapsing for too long at the porch.

“Nothing,” Nico says, and he hesitates as he notices Jace’s worry doesn’t waver. This might just be an awkward conversation. He enters the infirmary with Jace tagging along behind him. Will turns around to greet them.

“Took you long enough to come back—” As expected, he pauses. Will cocks his head to take in the sight of Jason “Jace” Grace—eye wide as he slowly sets the pair if sutures back on a table. Then he looks to Nico. Jace, again. Nico.

“Hey, Will,” Jace greets.

There’s no way to Felix their way out of this situation. Nico doubts a lollipop will help. At the very least, Will doesn’t cry at the sight of Jace like everyone else—and Jace looks grateful for that.

Will gazes at Nico suspiciously. “I take it this is why you ran out of here all of a sudden.”

Nico’s cheeks flush, and he averts his gaze. “I—we need to get ahold of your dad.”

“For Jason,” Will guesses.

Again, Nico awkwardly kicks his foot into the wood panel. “Yes. It’s a long story, but we need to figure out what’s going on. We need to send this Jason back to his universe, and…maybe figure out what happened to ours.”

Will holds onto his words, one speculative eyebrow in the air. There’s a worry there that makes it even harder for Nico to meet his gaze. “Our Jason.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, and he glares at his shoelaces. “Our Jason.”

There’s a silence that follows. Nico can feel Jace’s gaze dart back and forth between the two of them—before Jace suddenly extends a hand.

“You can call me Jace if it’s easier,” he says.

Nico’s not quite sure what to expect on Will’s side. Their camp medic stares down at Jace’s hand—then shakes it amicably. “Okay.”

Thus—continuing their short pinball sequence from the Big House, to the infirmary, to Cabin Six. Nico pretends not to notice the old Argo crew staring from the Big House porch—evidently in need of a mental break from all of the tears shed. Jason seemed relieved by that, too.

Nico’s just not sure when _he’s_ going to find reprieve in all of this. Or if he ever will. From the corner of his eye, he catches Jace staring at him worriedly again, and pretends not to notice. His chest clenches—because he knows he never quite found reprieve the first time, either.

Will returns outside with a bright yellow smartphone, thankfully overshadowing Nico’s thoughts before he can dwell.

“The Sun God has an iPhone?” Nico wrinkles his nose.

“What else is he going to take his selfies on?” Will jokes—and he smiles in such a casual way that Nico has a hard time mustering himself. Still, there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes as he stares at Nico, lingering far too long for Nico’s comfort.

“Have you ever met Apollo?” Nico turns to Jace.

Jace’s eyebrows knit together thoughtfully and he nods slowly. “Sort of.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Nico takes a second to soak in what little reaction this Jason gives—just the slightest wrinkle of his brow, or the tiniest curl of his lip, right beneath the tiny scar—but there’s nothing more. Jace catches him staring, so Nico averts his gaze once more.

Nico expects Will to dial a number or go through the contact list. Instead, Will blasts Maroon 5 on a mini speaker and aims it towards the sun.

“Will!” Nico shouts, then clamps hands over his ears. “How is this supposed to—”

A burst of light explodes around them. Nico isn’t prepared for it—and is taken aback as Jace shields both of them. He thinks he gets a sunburn on contact.

“ _And she wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilll be loved~!”_ Apollo appears beside his son, dressed in a vibrant orange Camp Halfblood shirt, acid-wash jorts and a pair of flip-flops. Over his torso lays his ukulele, which he strums dramatically to the vibrato of Adam Levine’s voice. As always, Apollo’s gaze is on his son first, and everyone else second. He claps a hand over Will’s shoulder. “Will! How are you? You know I’m more into Demi Lovato these days.”

“Good, Dad,” Will greets—and Nico welcomes the light of the Sun God’s entrance compared to how the rest of the afternoon has gone. Off in the distance, he can see the rest of their friends leaning over the porch in hopes to hear the conversation.

Nico knows better. Apollo’s sun is all-encompassing, but his attention span is still quite short. He opens his mouth to greet the Sun God, but Apollo catches sight of him first.

“Nico!” Apollo claps his other hand over Nico’s shoulder, his ukulele falling limp over at his hip. His grin is a blinding white, holding nothing but affection for them. “And how’s my favorite couple doing?”

Gods.

Will coughs awkwardly. “We broke up, Dad.”

“What?” The warmth of the sun quickly fades into an overbearing worry. He flits between Nico and Will with a humiliating concern, then fixates on his son. “You didn’t tell me about that. How do we feel about this? What happened?”

The heat of his questions is almost burning. With a mortal concern, Apollo’s demeanor is protective.

Will gives Nico the same look from the day it happened. And, with much more ease than Nico can muster himself, explains, “We decided it was better if we focused on ourselves for a while.”

Nico’s chest aches and his jaw tightens. He hates feeling self-conscious. “Yes. _We_ decided that.”

“Oh,” Apollo says with great relief. “So there’s a chance the two of you will get back together!”

_Gods_ , again. Nico resists the urge to bury his face in a nearby hole.

“I’m sorry—” To his relief, Jace suddenly takes command of the conversation. “Did you just say the two of you were together?”

There’s something about his voice that feels off to Nico. Nico looks up to Jace—and for the briefest instance, Jace’s somber demeanor is replaced with something else that Nico can’t place. Jace looks stunned beyond belief, his eyes flitting between Will, Nico, and Apollo. He sounds strained, like someone just punched him in the gut.

But again—Nico only sees it for a brief second. It’s startling enough that his chest clenches—then Apollo blocks his view. Literally.

“Jason?” Apollo whispers—with far more vibrato than before. He stands parallel to Jace, a hand covering his mouth and bright blue eyes suddenly flowing like pools of water.

Jace has minimal time to regather his thoughts as he stares up to the Sun God. He begins to lean for a kneel. “Hi, Lord Apollo—”

“Jason!” And then Apollo flings his arms around Jace, portly tears rippling down his cheekbones and loud sobbing whimpers echoing around camp. He clamps around Jace with a vice-grip, sweeping the six-foot-one demigod off the ground to cry and blabber in his chest.

Jace turns to catch Nico’s eye, at a loss, then to Will.

“This could take a while,” Will says.

Twenty minutes later finds Jace and Apollo sitting on a bench with a matching set of cocoa mugs, while Will and Nico look onwards. Apollo doesn’t calm down until Jason offers him a lollipop—which for the Sun God, cements that Jason is alive. Then, Apollo keeps talking before anyone can offer him an explanation.

“How’s your cocoa? Warm enough? It can be warmer. Too warm?” Apollo asks. He lifts his finger preemptively and the steam on Jace’s hot cocoa seems to expand. “Hotter?”

“Maybe you should let him try drinking it first, Dad,” Will suggests.

Jace lifts his gaze momentarily, his charcoal orbs passing between Will and Nico, though Nico isn’t sure why.

“Very well,” Apollo announces. “Sip it, little brother. I’ll adjust accordingly.”

A full smile actually stretches across Jace’s face—and Nico’s stricken by how sweet it is. In the back of his mind, he’s faintly aware that it’s the first time Jace has smiled like _that_ since stumbling into Camp Halfblood.

“It’s probably weird of me to say this,” Jace says slowly, and he blows cool air against his mug. “But you remind me of my sister.”

“Well of course, Jason! I’m your brother! It’s my job to take care of you.” Evidently, Apollo is moved by this. But he’s quick to shrivel again, his entire body wilting like a sad flower and eyes shimmering with the beginnings of tears again. “If only I could’ve proven that to you before your untimely demise.”

And again, he sinks, pressing his forehead to his mug to let out a long, drawn out sob. Jace heaves a short sigh, his shirt drenched in a layer of godly tears, and pats the Sun God on the back.

“Right. That,” he says. _That_ being their Jason’s death. He shoots a furtive glance at Nico once more—and Nico is aware that Will is doing the same thing. Then, Jace sets his mug down. “I heard you sang a beautiful ballad in my name. Thank you.”

Apollo looks up to this Jason, son of Hades, with teary eyes and a loud sniffle. “You were taken too soon.”

Jace hesitates, his hand still sympathetically tapping the Sun God on the back. “The world is safe. You’re a god again, with human sympathy.” His eyebrows furrow momentarily, his gaze flitting to Will with a familiarity that lacks in this universe’s camp medic. “Apparently a _lot_ of human sympathy.”

Will doesn’t miss a beat, though Nico wishes he would. “A lot of people took your death pretty hard, Jace. My dad’s one of the few that took it _really_ hard.”

Nico _hates_ that Jace’s eyes fall back to him at that statement, curious.

“You should never have been put in that position,” Nico mutters. “Neither Piper nor you. Especially you.”

“Nico,” Will calls, but not much else. He waves, almost routinely, at Nico’s feet where the grass is withering.

“I’m fine,” Nico dismisses—and he draws a breath so the grass can perk once more. Pretends not to notice Jace’s eyes falling to the soles of his shoes. “At any rate, Lord Apollo—Jace isn’t our Jason—”

Apollo weeps openly. “Ours is dead.”

Jace pats the god on the back sympathetically.

“—and we need to get this one back to his own universe,” Nico finishes quickly, before they can spend the next hour consoling a god rather than seek answers. Again. “Since you were the last god to ever see our Jason alive, we were hoping you might be able to offer guidance.”

“He was alive once,” Apollo agrees, and he stares wistfully into his mug.

Jace stops his hand briefly on the god’s back. “Would you…like to talk about it, Apollo?”

Nico can’t help but shoot Jace a despairing look—especially with the sun setting so fast behind them with Apollo’s downcast mood. Of course—Apollo accepts Jace’s offer, barreling through his words before a yes is even uttered from his lips.

“I only knew you briefly,” Apollo sniffles, “but I never truly felt like I had a brother until I met you, my dear Jason. You taught me human compassion and selflessness in one single night. You were prepared to lay down your life long before we ever reunited. All you ever asked of me is that I remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.”

He wipes tears from the corners of his eyes, blond eyelashes fluttering as he blinks rapidly—then he’s weeping on Jace’s shoulder again.

“I visit my children monthly now, if not weekly.” Apollo pauses and gives a pointed look to Will. “Sometimes daily.”

“Usually daily,” Will mutters.

For as light as both the Sun God and son of the Sun speak, Nico tries to keep his stomach from twisting in more knots from Apollo’s words.

“If only you hadn’t died,” Apollo whispers loudly, “so I could show you every bit of compassion and selflessness that you have shown others.”

_That_ makes Jace stop. But again, Nico only catches a glimpse of it.

“Yeah,” Jace agrees quietly. “If only.”

“Apollo,” Nico interjects—finally exhausted from the stringent exchange. There’s an irritation bubbling in his chest, but he forces it away. “I’m glad that you’re confronting these feelings, but Jace isn’t ours to keep. Jason, he’s—” His throat constricts. “—he’s dead. This one isn’t your brother.”

Apollo wipes another tear against Jace’s snot-ridden shoulder, then stares at the blond son of Hades.

“You’re right,” he agrees miserably. “This Jason is not my brother. He’s a son of Hades. Yours, technically.”

Jace makes a face, and Nico twitches. He doesn’t want to try and wrap his mind around that one.

“Quite handsome, I might add,” Apollo continues, and he moves to caress Jace’s face. “I gotta say, not-little-brother, this leather jacket suits you. I’m getting a boy band vibe. Those are fun. You’d look _great_ in some skinny jeans.” 

His hands lingers over Jace’s face maybe a bit too long. Nico stare onward in shock, not even sure where to begin.

“Um. Thanks, Apollo,” Jace says, and he’s slow to pull Apollo’s roaming hands off his face. “Again.”

_Again_? Nico rubs his temples.

“Dad,” Will assists. “Can you help Nico or not?”

With Nico’s name on his son’s tongue, Apollo turns to them again. He stares between Will and Nico, evidently reminded of the little detail that they’d broken up—and Nico suppresses the urge to smack something. Apollo, however, finally sobers and looks back at Jace with concern—evidently finally done grieving.

“Well, I don’t see a war in your future,” Apollo concludes. “But rest assured, your forthcoming days won’t be uneventful, Jason.”

They all stare at him.

“That’s it?” Nico asks, unable to hide the frustration in his voice.

“No war is good,” Jace decides. His eyebrows knit together. “But you have no idea how I got here. Or why I’m supposed to be here.”

“No, my dear little brother.” Apollo reaches Jace’s cheek again, thumbing like a mournful lover. Thankfully, Jace dismisses the touch much more quickly the second time. “If it were up to me, you’d never leave. You’d stay here with us.”

Nico _hates_ how alarmed this Jason looks by that possibility.

“But!” Apollo declares, before turning his gaze back to Nico. “Perhaps there _is_ a reason for dear Jace to honor us with his presence! Maybe he _is_ a replacement. You said his soul never ended up in the Underworld, didn’t you, Nico? Not in Elysium?”

Nico knows very well that Jason’s soul isn’t in Elysium. “No, it didn’t.”

“So maybe you’re the answer, Jace.” Apollo grabs both of Jace’s hands lovingly. “You could stay.”

“I…” Jace’s eyebrows furrow together, pained, and Nico tries hard not to take it personally.

“Jace has his own world, with his own friends and family. And his own Apollo,” Nico adds, if only to punctuate the realization for the Sun God. “If I couldn’t sense Jason in the Underworld, then it’s possible that he went to the wrong one. Or someone took his spirit. Some God just isn’t done with him yet.”

The last part comes out bitter, even for himself.

All of a sudden, Jace’s question takes him by surprise. “Have you tried looking for his soul?”

Nico cocks his head back to the other demigod, taken aback how Jace’s eyes remain on him with curiosity. His heart thrums in his chest, hands twitching at his sides. “Our Jason wouldn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be alive again. You basically said it yourself—he made peace with his decision when deciding to help Apollo.”

On cue, Apollo weeps again, and Jace continues to console the Sun God.

But his eyes come back to Nico. They always seem to. Jace studies him for a second, with a deep hue to his irises very much different from the sky blue that Nico is used to.

“Wanting to come back to life and making peace with this decision are two very different things,” Jace says finally, and he arches an eyebrow in the air. “Have you considered _asking_ him what he wanted?”

Apollo stops sobbing for a brief second and raises his gaze. Will does, too. Nico opens his mouth to speak—but he’s not sure what to say.

Suddenly, the sky darkens. The sound of metal crinkling echoes from the clouds above—followed by the rattling of one celestial bronze dragon’s maul. Festus does a circle around the top of Camp Halfblood, before parking right in front of the Big House.

Piper and Leo have arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll come with,” Roman Percy announces. He waves a hand—and a dry pathway appears beneath all of the rain. Before both he and Reyna leave, he whips his head around and scowls at Jason. He glares—more annoyed than he’s ever been at Jason. “Do you _always_ piss your boyfriend off like this, Grace?”
> 
> That snaps Jason out of his stupor. “My _what_?”

Through his pacing, Jason finds himself beneath the Juno Moneta and across from the five faces that have been with him all afternoon. Praetor Nico stares at him with pristine, azure eyes—brimming bluer than the panorama above them. His frown stretches across his face, full this time, and his gaze narrows at Jason.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “do you want to run that by me again?”

He’s upset. Jason’s been around for those raw moments with his own Nico, when Nico was truly, deeply bothered and scarred by the things around him. Those eyes become dark, and the skeletons near Nico have trembled. Shadow tendrils usually swirl at Nico’s feet, and the very anguish Nico feels usually makes the goosebumps explode across Jason’s forearm.

In this case—the sky is dark.

And Jason’s not quite sure why _._

He’s busy trying to unfurl the knots in his mind, trying to figure out _why_ someone would drop him in this new world.

“There has to be a reason that your Jason and I got swapped. There always is. Even if—I don’t know, if it’s just to pick up Mr. D’s laundry or something.” Jason’s eyebrows knit together. His gaze flits back to Juno again—but he finds it harder. “And I don’t belong here. I’ve served my time.”

“You’re right, dude,” Roman Percy interjects—and he gestures to Jason’s arm. “You served your time and then some. Twelve stripes. And you’re still going as Pontifex Maximus.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Jason’s next smile hurts. Juno’s gaze behind him hurts. “What’s one more task for the gods?”

He just needs to figure out what that next task _is_. And—if Juno isn’t there for him, Jason’s instinct tells him to move onto the next god. To figure out who else he’s served in his sixteen years of life and figure out who needs him.

“But you want to go back to being dead,” Praetor Nico interjects. The intensity of his gaze is so sharp that it unsettles Jason.

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Jason’s hand palms his own chest. He ignores the way his heart bristled when Praetor Nico touched it earlier. “I’m only here because your Jason is missing. I’ve already died over there. They buried me. My spirit should have passed to the Underworld.”

“You’re right,” Praetor Nico says. “You didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

Jason’s gaze raises back to the praetor, his hand still settled on his chest. He’s had this argument once before—but didn’t quite have an answer for Apollo. There wasn’t time for one—not when Caligula needed to be stopped.

So, Jason echoes what he did in the principia. “I wasn’t going to put Piper’s dad through that again.”

“So you put _Thalia_ through it?” Praetor Nico angrily throws an arm behind him to the said demigod—who’s been quiet the entire time.

Thalia’s gaze is at the floor, her arms crossed as this New Rome’s son of Jupiter speaks. Her face is grim and frustrated, and Jason can only think about what she told him this morning. _Why wasn’t I there to protect you?_

“My Thalia is with the Huntresses,” Jason says—and his throat constricts. His sister, Beth, and Praetor Nico all cock their heads towards him, drinking the words in—while the familiar ache bubbles in Jason’s stomach—the one that always appeared the day after his sister left their visits. “I don’t—we’re not that close in my world.”

Not as close as Jason has wanted to be, since reuniting with her at Pike’s Peak.

To his surprise, Thalia’s demeanor shrivels, and she stares at him, devastated. “Why not?”

“You chose to be with the Huntresses,” Jason explains, and his own heart suddenly shatters at the way she looks at him. “I never saw you again after the Wolf House. You thought I was dead. You moved on with your life, Thalia.”

Her dark eyes brim with tears—something Jason’s never seen before. “If I found out you were still alive, Jace, I would never stay with the Huntresses.”

That strikes a chord with Jason. He feels his own eyes stinging. “But you _did,_ Thalia.”

His voice comes out smaller than he intends.

His time with his big sister is always in brief flashes—like lightning in the sky, set on its own course and guided by no one. He has a big sister who had her life figured out better than Jason—even before the amnesia and before the swap. The Daughter of Zeus, who forsook the prophecy in favor of controlling her own fate.

He was already in the past in her eyes. Dead, in her eyes the first time. Thalia forsook the prophecy and moved forward.

But this Thalia stares at him with a passionate ferocity. “I’d never.”

_Then you’re not the sister that I know_ , Jason wants to say. But he doesn’t want to cause an argument. The words die in his throat, and he shakes his head. “The Huntresses have been taking care of you for a long time now. They’ll—they’ll take care of you this time, too.”

“Who’s been taking care of _you_ , Jason?” Praetor Nico asks, and he redirects the attention back to himself.

Jason searches the faces behind New Rome’s praetor—and finds they all mirror Praetor Nico’s. Reyna has a hand over Thalia’s. Beth is staring at Jason with the same concern and worry from before. And Percy—who Jason has always known to roll his eyes in the face of the gods, frowns at Jason instead.

He doesn’t know what to say. “I…”

No one. Jason will never see Leo again. Piper dumped him. Mellie was mad at him, thinking he hurt Piper, and Coach Hedge followed his wife. Chiron sent him off to boarding school in Pasadena, alone, where he counted down the days until Apollo and Meg would arrive for his death.

There was Nico… _his_ Nico—but even then, Jason was more worried about Nico’s happiness over his own. He could only leave Camp Halfblood knowing his own Nico could hold a smile without him—even if it hurt to see that smile directed at someone else. At another boy.

Nico’s happiness, Piper’s happiness. Frank, Reyna, and Hazel are holding up the beams of Camp Jupiter as true Romans. Annabeth and Percy are probably in college now. He’s only ever known the Thalia that leaves on her own path.

So no one.

Jason’s used to having eyes on him. He’s grown up with it beneath the shadow of Jupiter. But suddenly eyes are on him for a different reason—and he doesn’t like it.

“Why does this matter?” Jason settles on, and his eyebrows furrow together. “We’re trying to get your Jason back.”

“We’re not talking about Jace right now,” Praetor Nico protests. “We’re talking about you.”

“Nico, I’m _dead_. Caligula killed me.” Jason rubs his forehead and takes a full step back, into the temple of the Juno Moneta—but he’s finding that he doesn’t like that, either. “I’m _okay._ I made my decision on that one.”

Praetor Nico’s eyes flicker dangerously, angry. Jason has seen the look, but it’s never been directed at him.

“You made that decision on your _own_ ,” he snaps. “You didn’t tell anyone. You weren’t even going to tell Piper.”

Jason stares at Praetor Nico with confusion. “I never told you I wasn’t planning on telling Piper.”

“Because I know you wouldn’t!” Praetor Nico cries, and his voice climbs with anger. “You shouldn’t be _doing_ this anymore! You didn’t even tell _me_!”

_CRAAAAAACK_

A ribbon of lightning breaks through the sky—followed by a crackle of thunder so loud that it echoes off the floors and ceiling of the Juno Moneta. Jason has never flinched at a storm before—but with Nico’s rage, he has to shield his eyes.

Then—a downpour.

Thick raindrops hiss as they hit the plush grass on Temple Hill, and the winds bristle behind them. Jason sees Roman Percy shielding Beth. Reyna grabs onto Thalia. Nico stands there with shaking fists and a heaving chest. There’s a shimmer down the corners of his eyes that could almost be mistaken for rain—but Jason quickly realizes it’s not. Azure eyes are marked with a burst of red and hot tears. 

Nico _seethes_ , his gaze set on Jason, and Jason stares back, stunned.

Then, Nico covers his face.

“I.” His voice is quiet, almost inaudible with the storm. Shaky. “I can’t do this right now.”

He turns out of view from Jason—and flies away.

“Wait!” Jason trudges forward—only to see the purple blob of Nico di Angelo as it shrinks into the distance.

“Nico!” Reyna shouts. She bows her head miserably, then turns to Thalia. “I’ll get him.”

Thalia’s eyes raise to the gray sky—then to Reyna with a short nod, her face filled with the same worry it had for Jason only moments ago. “Yeah.”

“I’ll come with,” Roman Percy announces. He waves a hand—and a dry pathway appears beneath all of the rain. Before both he and Reyna leave, he whips his head around and scowls at Jason. He glares—more annoyed than he’s ever been at Jason. “Do you _always_ piss your boyfriend off like this, Grace?”

_That_ snaps Jason out of his stupor. “My _what_?”

*

“More tears.” Jace sighs with anticipation as they approach the Big House again. The comment seems more for himself, his charcoal-colored eyes flickering with a mute resignation. He fiddles with the front of his shirt, which is still drenched from Apollo’s melancholy sobs.

Nico doesn’t catch himself staring until Jace turns towards him, curious. Then—Nico’s gaze falls. “They’ll be the worst of them. You’re close to Piper and Leo in this world.”

He feels he needs to preface that, considering Apollo’s unexpected reaction. Luckily the Sun God had immediately gotten distracted by his other children—with the insistence that Jace and Nico come back later. Nico doesn’t know if he wants to watch Apollo hit on Jace again, or hear Apollo encourage Will and he to get back together.

Jace’s steps halt beside him. “The worst of them, huh?”

Nico _hates_ how that question is directed at him. He fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. “Leo is your best friend. You and Piper dated.”

He hates how his heart clenches at that fact, too. Nico doesn’t think he’s ready to see all of this play out.

However, that fact apparently catches Jace off guard. “Piper and I what?”

“ _Jason_!”

Suddenly, Leo and Piper are barreling towards them, Festus settled as a heavy roadblock in front of the Big House. He watches as Jace offers a tentative smile—smaller than the one given to Apollo.

They stop short, like everyone else has. Nico can see the cogs turning now—how both Leo and Piper raise and lower their heads to take in all of Jace: his black ensemble and decorated with a leather jacket. His pale skin, and his scruff of pale blond hair that’s the exact opposite of the close-cropped cut that Jason used to routinely keep from his time in the Legion.

“Jason,” Leo breathes. His hands twitch restlessly at his sides, and he stares at Jason with glassy eyes. “Wow. I. Superman…wow.”

For all the time spent repairing something aboard the Argo II, Leo doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands as he stares at Jace. His ears are steaming, all of the pent-up emotion brimming like steam to a tea kettle.

And Piper is worse. Piper, who actually saw Jason die. _Saw_ him get stabbed and pierced with arrows. Her entire body trembles, eyes glued to this blond son of Hades and tears falling freely. She sobs.

It’s almost routine now, how Jace opens his arms, his smile still quiet. “Hi.”

Nico looks away as both Piper and Leo fall into Jace’s arms. Jace is courteous and polite—allowing Leo to cling onto him like a koala bear and Piper to fist his shirt with her fingers.

“You idiot,” she sobs. “You brave, stupid idiot.”

Jace casts a glance down at her, his lips curled into a crooked line. He glances at Nico once more, but Nico is busy admiring the dirt wedged in the soles of his shoes. He doesn’t want to see Camp Halfblood’s _other_ favorite couple reunite.

They reassemble in the Big House once again, Jace sitting in the center of the room as a spectacle for the old Argo II crew to see. Even hours into this realization, tears are still being shed.

“Sorry,” Frank apologizes, and he wipes his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

The corner of Jace’s lips curls into a tired smile and he reaches out to touch the son of Mars on the hand. “Cry as much as you need. Grieving is a process.”

So, the tears fall for the Jason Grace numb to his own death. Leo is somber, hands stuffed in his toolbelt to calm his nerves. Percy is glaring at the floor, tapping his foot restlessly. Piper is wedged between Hazel and Annabeth, both girls holding the daughter of Aphrodite for every tear that falls.

And slowly, Piper recounts the story of Caligula with all the details that were missing from Frank and Hazel. The first-hand experience no one else knew since Piper moved to Tahlequah, Oklahoma shortly after what happened in California. She chokes at certain facts, lowering her head, and both Hazel and Annabeth cling to her.

“I’m sorry,” Piper whispers, and she raises her gaze back to Jace. “I thought I was ready for this.”

Jace gives her an odd look, then shakes his head. “Sometimes the pain of losing someone just leaves a hole in your heart no matter how much time has passed.”

Everyone lifts their head and stares at him.

“Right. Hole in the heart.” Jace curls his hands against his stool. “No pun intended.”

Nico snorts. He surveys the room—and notices Leo’s lip twitch. As unintentional as it was, the delivery of the joke is very much _Jason._

Piper recognizes it too. She smiles through her tears and reaches out to place a hand over Jace’s. “You always knew how to make me laugh when I needed it, Jason.”

It’s subtle, but Jace’s smile wanes. He stretches it back to its original size.

“Seriously—any time I asked for a laugh, you always had a joke locked and loaded.” Piper falls quiet, her smile shriveling beneath another set of tears. “You were always good at listening. I never felt like I couldn’t ask you to do something for me.”

“Oh.” Jace’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m…glad he was good to you.”

Piper’s eyes shine again. “You were _perfect_ , Jason. You still are. We—”

She relinquishes a heavy breath.

“—we ended things poorly,” she says quietly. “But I’m in a better place now. Way better, honestly.”

On either side of Piper, both Hazel and Annabeth squeeze her arms, smiling.

“Good,” Jace says. And he’s quick to pull his hand away.

Unfortunately, the small gesture—quick and haste—is noticed by Piper. She stares at the way Jace pulled away and a frown curls against her lips.

“Good,” she repeats. “That’s all you have to say?”

Jace blinks with confusion. His eyes carry over to Nico—but the latter demigod shrugs. The frustration is clear across Piper’s face—a weight she’s been holding ever since running from the room where Caligula killed Jason Grace. Nico knows that feeling well—to have a death of someone so dear hit the heart and be unable to do anything about it. He went on a downward spiral for a whole year because of it.

He tried as hard as he could not to repeat the same mistakes with Jason’s death.

“Do you know how angry I was to find out you were prepared to die? How you were trying to be a martyr and _protect_ me?” Piper asks, her voice raising with anger. “I asked Apollo to heal you. I asked if your soul could be brought back, but he said the Doors of Death were closed. I wanted to treat you with Cherokee medicine! I even tried to _charmspeak_ you alive again, like I did the first time!”

At the mention of the last one, Jace winces.

“You shouldn’t have died!” Piper cries, her voice shaking.

“Piper,” Hazel interjects. Her hand flies to Piper’s shoulder. “Jason made his decision.”

“And all you can say is _good_?” Piper continues anyway. “You can’t say anything else to me?”

A familiar sensation of butterflies fills Nico’s stomach, his head fuzzy for just a moment—then it quickly fades. He stares around the room and notices Annabeth, Percy, Leo, and several others tense. Jace in particular settles back in his seat, startled. Then—

“You’re not my type,” a charmspoken Jace blurts out.

Silence. Anyone who _was_ under Piper’s spell suddenly snaps out of it—and they all stare at Jace. Red suddenly bristles across Jace’s pale cheeks, mortified, and he scans the room. His gaze lands on Nico for a second longer—then back to Piper.

Who stares back, just as surprised.

“We dated for almost a year,” she whispers, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears again. “Juno and my mom meddled, but—I’m—I’m not your type? At all? We _loved_ each other, Jason. I—I loved you.”

Again, Jace winces—and he curls his hands against his stool. He’s been complacent as others shed tears on him—but this time, Jace looks unable to stay quiet. Whether or not it’s the charmspeak again is up for debate—but again, Jace tries to catch Nico’s eye before speaking again.

“I’ve been charmspoken before,” he confesses, his voice quiet. Jace touches his forehead. “I…I’m sorry, Piper, but—charmspeak scares me. All of that does.”

She stares back at him, shocked. They all do.

“And,” Jace adds slowly, his voice cracking. Red stains his cheeks once more, flustered. “I have a boyfriend.”

Nico’s blood runs cold. His fingers feel numb in his lap—and he stares back at Jason, throat dry. He rewinds the sentence in his head—over and over, and—still, stops short.

“You,” Nico whispers, unable to trust his voice, “never told me you liked boys.”

Jace’s eyebrows knit together.

“Wait a minute—” Percy inches forward in his chair. “—is being gay like, a son of Hades thing?”

Hazel promptly throws a pillow in his face.

Jace’s lips contort, bemusement flickering in his eyes. “I’d like to think being _bi_ is a Jason thing. Or a _me_ thing, at least.”

“Boys,” Nico repeats.

“And girls.” Jace turns his gaze slowly back to Piper, and the hue of his cheeks darken significantly. “But I’m—currently seeing one boy.”

Piper and Leo exchange looks across the room.

“You never told me,” she says finally, and her voice is tight.

“From the looks of it, you never told anyone.” Leo’s hands twitch in his toolbelt.

Again, Jace’s demeanor twists—but this time, the frustration is evident. “Did any of you ever consider asking?”

Piper and Leo share yet another look—and Nico can’t even fathom what’s going through their heads. Piper still looks taken aback at a universe where the two of them were never together. Leo is fiddling with his toolbelt, each pouch rattling with his hands while his gaze remains on the blond son of Hades.

Then they look at Nico. Because if Jason wasn’t with Piper, he was with Nico. Hanging out with Nico, getting to know him. Keeping up on a promise to be a good friend, and insisting that Nico had a place at camp. That it was _okay_ to like boys.

Because Jason liked boys too.

At least this one does. This one has a _boyfriend—_ which feels like a thousand anxious pricks at Nico’s heart.

It hurts _way_ more than watching Percy and Annabeth get together.

But this isn’t their Jason.

Jace looks towards Nico like Piper and Leo do—but it’s hard to piece together what he’s expecting—if he’s expecting anything.

“I,” Nico whispers when he finds his voice, “can’t say it ever came up in conversation. Piper?”

She startles, evidently more taken aback more than Nico is. Offended, even.

“We broke up because I was trying to sort some things out. I didn’t want to do it anymore and you didn’t fight me on it.” Piper hesitates, before adding, “I told you I didn’t want to fight on it. I—I don’t know if I charmspoke you, but—you didn’t fight. And you still—” She chokes on her words. “—you still wanted to protect me and my dad.”

“Piper,” Leo suddenly says, and his eyebrows furrow together. “Mellie said he broke up with _you._ That he was part of the reason you wanted to get out of town so fast.”

All eyes fly to Piper once more, and she finds a new calm past her tears. She returns everyone’s gaze, her eyebrows furrowed together.

“He wanted to get you out of town so you’d be out of danger,” Jace cuts in.

Piper cocks her head back to him—but this time, stares as though looking at a stranger—an acquaintance. Certainly not someone that she dated for almost a year. 

Despite the outburst only moments ago, the corner of Jace’s lips etch into a thoughtful line. He crosses his arms in his chest, taking the same posture as before—legs splayed in front of him and ankles crossed. So very much like Jason. “It’s just a guess. If…I was the one trying to keep you safe, I would’ve let Mellie run with that assumption. You would’ve gotten out of town faster.”

The words are sensible and pragmatic—but painful to hear. Nico feels his chest twisting into a familiar set of knots like the first time he heard the news. He hears another sob come from Piper’s lips.

“ _Jesus_ , Beauty Queen.” Leo’s voice cracks, a haste laugh fluttering from the back of his throat. “You charmspoke our boy _how many_ months and broke his heart? And he _still_ died for you? Did _he_ want that, too?”

The air changes, tense. Piper looks up from her pool of sorrow, evidently taken aback by the son of Hephaestus’s words, and—she scowls. “What are you implying, Leo?”

Leo glares back. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Is that something you _want_ me to do?”

“Oh.” Jace raises a hand between the two of them and winces. “I wasn’t trying to cause—this isn’t—”

“Do you think I wanted Jason to die?” Piper stands to her feet, unrestrained by Hazel or Annabeth. “Do you think I wanted _you_ to die?”

Leo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I came _back,_ Pipes. I knew I was going to. Jason _didn’t_. He knew he was going to die, and he did it for you!”

“Things are getting a little tense,” Jace tries once more—and everyone’s gaze flies to him. Everyone except Piper and Leo, who are now scowling at one another. Nico’s never seen them argue. “Maybe we should calm down.”

His words go ignored. Piper’s face swells with red rage, her hands shaking beside her. “Do you think that makes it any easier for me to watch _either_ of you die? To watch you throw yourselves in the line of fire? _I_ didn’t know you were going to come back, Leo, none of us did! Not even Hazel or Nico! We searched for you for _months_! Jason was worried about you! _I_ was worried about you!”

Leo’s eyes shine, his ears fuming and curls flickering now. “Yeah, we’re a real fucking trio. I’m sorry I _took_ so long, but I figured you two would take care of each other!”

Piper stares at Leo, stunned. “We did, Leo.”

“No, _he_ did,” Leo bites back angrily. He gestures to Jace, who startles in his stool. “To the bitter fucking end, because he’s Superman! Because—because this is just something he _did_ —he _always_ took care of other people—and because of how things ended, I’m never going to see my best friend again!”

“He was my best friend too,” Piper snaps. “I had a relationship with him, too, Leo! We all did.”

“Yeah, well—I didn’t have to _charmspeak_ my way into becoming Jason’s friend,” Leo retorts, his eyes red.

At that, Piper hesitates, her demeanor faltering. “I. I didn’t know I was doing it.”

Jace fidgets in his seat, his hands tight against the brim of his stool. “Piper…It’s—”

Leo laughs sourly. “How does that _possibly_ make any of it better?”

She leers at him angrily. “I guess in the end it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? Since he never told _either_ of us that he was bi.”

Jace winces, and his eyes fly to Nico again. “Look—”

“What—like it doesn’t matter that _you_ dumped _him_?” Leo retorts, persistent. “Is it easier for you if you leave that detail out? Easier for you to look at the goddamn stars with _someone_ _else_ , Pipes?”

Piper opens her mouth to speak—but this time, nothing comes out. For the person with an enchanted voice, she’s speechless, her gaze falling to the ground—and the conversation dries. She stands to her feet and bolts out of the Big House—leaving everyone else to watch after her.

Annabeth flies to her feet, flashing Hazel a look. “I’ll go get her. Hazel?”

Hazel flashes Nico a quick look before both girls follow after the daughter of Aphrodite.

And already, Leo looks like he’s regretting his words. He buries his face in his hands and settles back in his chair. “No one stopped me. I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry, Superman—sorry, Jace.”

Jace stares back at him—having spent the entire argument trying to get a word in with no avail. He lifts his gaze to Nico. Nico swallows hard, unable to keep the gaze for too long before they both turned to watch the crumped son of Hephaestus.

“It’s…okay,” Jace says quietly. His hands curl against the stool. “Sometimes people say things they don’t mean when they’re grieving.”

Leo lifts his head, his eyes rimmed with tears, and sighs. “Of course _you_ would say that.”

Jace fidgets, his gaze returning to Nico once more—but Nico can’t find the words to respond.

This really was the worst of it.

*

They take Jason to get sushi.

The downpour doesn’t stop. The rain is so loud that Jason can hardly hear his own thoughts through the storm against the window. He tried to will it away with his own powers—but the clouds are stubborn, attuned to another son of Jupiter, who proudly wears the purple SPQR shirt and stands as New Rome’s praetor.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jason asks, his gaze fixated on the dim window. He can’t get the image of Praetor Nico out of his mind—sopping wet and with tears in his eyes.

Beth and Thalia look at one another. Once the afternoon exploded in the way it did, it didn’t sit well with Jason to try and find a way back. He wanted to fly after Praetor Nico—but everything he said seemed to make things worse. Besides—he wasn’t the Jason that this Nico wanted.

“He’ll be okay when our Jason gets back,” Thalia says quietly. “He gets like this. Nico was restless when Reyna went missing for a couple of months.”

The corner of Beth’s lips etches into a smile and she shakes her head. “We barely spoke a word to each other before the war. We didn’t really start until he wanted you and me to make up with each other, Jason.”

At the mention of that, Jason turns his head back to this daughter of Athena. She sits across from him, sipping green tea from a tiny china cup.

“I thought you said we were childhood friends,” he says.

The edges of her smile fade slightly. “We were. Are. But there was a long time where you shut me out, Jace. We…we weren’t the same after Luke left.”

Her voice is small and tight—reminiscent to how Thalia looked at him earlier when he admitted they weren’t close in his world. But this time, Beth’s worry is for the other Jason. The look of frustration on her face is for the other.

“We grew up together,” Jason guesses slowly, “which means we grew up with Luke. Before…before he betrayed camp.”

Beth looks back up to him, speculative, like she’s not sure if she wants to divulge in details personal to her. Jason doesn’t blame her. He’s never been a fan of other people describing his trysts and achievements. They always embellished the story because he was the son of Jupiter. Because he’s Juno’s champion.

Not here, he reminds himself. Not a son of Jupiter here. Not Juno’s champion here.

And Beth gives him a look more intimate than the way people who shouted his glories would. “Luke was your favorite person. He was the only person who encouraged you to be yourself, and…not just some hero of a Great Prophecy.”

Jason blinks at that. For some reason, his cheeks tingle. “Oh.”

“He,” Beth continues slowly, “also tried to get you to betray camp. He wanted to use you to destroy the gods. You never told me, but I always got the feeling you were tempted to go with him.”

_“Oh_. _”_ Jason’s eyebrows knit together, and he settles back in the booth, taken aback. Looking back at Thalia and Beth, he notices their gazes remain unchanged. They drink each of his reactions carefully.

“Seriously,” Thalia grumbles, and she shoves her chopsticks into her California roll. “What a creep. Fuck that guy.”

“You were never really the same after that.” Beth breaks her own chopsticks and mixes wasabi with her soy sauce. Her eyebrows furrow together, and she stops short of dipping her own sushi. “Luke was so charming at times that he knew how to get into people’s heads, but you got the worst of it. Some… _things_ happened during the war. You were willing to do anything to win. It scared people, but I think it scared you the most. You shut everyone out after that.”

She halts, her eyes mimicking the storm outside with a quiet anguish.

“We shut each other out, and we both hurt,” Beth corrects herself.

The guilt flutters in Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I know,” Beth says—and she stares at him with tired eyes, her lips curling into a smile. “I’m sorry it took me so long for me to ask you if you were okay. If you were _ever_ okay.”

Jason blinks at that. He bows his head, unable to look her in the eye again. “We…won the war though, didn’t we? Otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“We did,” Beth agrees. She grows quiet again. “But we lost a lot. You took care of all the funeral rites and picked up grief counselling for everyone. You’re a son of Hades, Jace—for all that you helped other people talk through their grief, you took a long time to talk about yours.”

Jason’s fingers curl against his glass of water, his eyebrows furrowed together. Being Jupiter’s son and Juno’s champion have been drilled in his head longer than he can remember. Even his own name was picked for someone else—not quite for him. He tries to imagine himself as anything other than that—as a son of Hades, wearing Nico’s black Camp Halfblood shirts and all the tired worried lines beneath his eyes. Can’t.

But…helping others—before, during, and after the war—to the best of his ability and trying to protect them. He can imagine that.

Thalia laughs, quiet but fond. There’s a sadness in her eyes, too, as she looks at him from across the booth. “For as much as Nico didn’t like you in the beginning, he’s the first person you were willing to open up to. Not even me. Getting you to open up is fighting tooth and nail.”

Jason returns a half-hearted laugh. “I’m stubborn.”

That earns him another odd look.

“You don’t want anyone to worry about you,” Thalia corrects—which makes Jason’s cheeks grow hot.

“I…” He can’t rebuke that one. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples. “Sacrifice is Roman. Lupa taught us to think of the good of the pack, not just the wolf. I would’ve thought that was enough.”

Both Beth and Thalia stare at him. There’s a picture in Zeus’s Cabin of the two of them together as childhood friends—with that boy, Luke. Jason used to stare at it and wonder what life would’ve been like if he got to grow up with them, too. If he could have a best friend and a big sister if he was born Greek instead of Roman.

“Jason,” Beth says, “weren’t you just saying that you’re a child of Rome _and_ Greece?”

Jason opens his eyes and looks up. Annabeth’s gaze is gentle—but pointed, evidently trying to poke the holes in his logic. And succeeding. His hands curl in his lap. “I wanted to be. I…” Jason swallows a lump in his throat, and he hesitates.

“What is it?” Thalia asks.

Jason’s learned quickly that they won’t change the subject without hearing his thoughts first.

“I never felt peace at Camp Jupiter. Not like I did at Camp Halfblood.” Jason touches his forehead and slowly looks up to his sister. This sister. “But then Chiron told us we should be in school instead of Camp. Piper thought it’d be a good idea to go to California. I wanted to go to Pasadena to see if I could finally learn something about Mom.”

Thalia’s eyes brew—but not quite the way that Jason’s grown used to. He gave up trying to ask his sister details about her a long time ago, having grown tired of her dismissal. But this one nods and urges him to go on.

“I wanted to finally learn about that side of myself. I didn’t even know my own birthday until you told me last year,” Jason admits softly, and his cheeks burn at the admission. “The Romans just celebrated a _Gotcha Day_ for me when I first got there.”

Pasadena didn’t have much to offer—other than news about his impending death. Facts about Beryl Grace had withered away with her ghost, gone with the eighties. Jason was never _really_ going to get what he wanted. He shouldn’t have expected things to change just because he wasn’t bound to Camp Jupiter anymore. He was always going to be bound—even in death.

Sacrifice _is_ Roman—but he sits before his sister, who is a child of Rome, and Beth, who has always been truly Greek, and feels discomfort knotting in his chest where the spear pierced him.

Was sacrifice just…him, too?

As he rubs his heart, Jason looks up and he notices both Thalia and Annabeth holding back laughs.

“What?” he asks.

“Seriously, Jason,” Beth remarks, “a Gotcha Day? You sound like a lost puppy.”

This time, Thalia _does_ let out a small laugh, her hand curling around Jason’s.

His eyebrows furrow together, bothered. “I’m not, though. Lost, I mean.”

The laughter fades, and they both just study at him. It irks Jason more, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“If your Nico is anything like mine,” he says, hopeful to change the subject, “then I’m sure he’s worried sick about your Jason. Your Jason…” Has it really good here. “We’ll find him. We’ll figure this out. Hopefully Nico will feel better once we find him.”

Thalia gives his hand a firm squeeze. “We believe you, baby brother. But you’re only going to upset Nico more if _you_ don’t take care of yourself.”

Jason shakes his head with disbelief. Seriously, he just doesn’t get it.

“What is it, Jace?” Beth asks—and Jason remembers how much they’re staring at him.

“I—we get along so well in my universe that I can’t remember the last time we argued,” Jason admits, and he touches his forehead again. “I don’t think we ever have. Not about each other. It’s just…it’s strange to be here with him and be at odds again.”

When he lifts his eyes, he notices both Thalia and Beth are staring at him blankly.

“Jace,” Beth retorts, “of course you get along with him. You’re dating him.”

“And,” Thalia adds, “you just told him you were okay with being dead.”

Jason’s cheeks set ablaze. He stuffs a California roll in his mouth. Much like earlier when Roman Percy pointed it out, Jason didn’t have a rebuttal. This Percy had a stern, protective glint in his eyes and was quick to default to Nico’s side when Nico needed it.

The Percy Jason knows has always been loyal to his friends—but it would always be Annabeth and his family first. The people who he scared when he went missing. Not even Nico made that VIP list, which had been a heartwrenching weight that Nico carried to Epirus.

Here, Beth sits before Jason, drinking every one of his reactions while Roman Percy and Reyna console Praetor Nico. A Nico, who must be missing his boyfriend terribly. Especially when a dead version of that boyfriend just shows up out of nowhere.

And that boyfriend isn’t Will. It’s Jason.

His hand twitches again, face burning at the thought.

Thalia gives him a firm squeeze, a fond smile across her face. As though reading his thoughts, she adds, “Nico’s come a long way since the Lotus Casino. And you’ve come a long way since I met you, Jace. You two bring out the best in each other.”

Jason doesn’t think he could blush harder if he tried. Beth and Thalia aren’t shy about their scrutiny, either.

“Yeah—well,” he starts slowly, “I’m not the one you should be saying that too. My Nico’s dating someone else in my universe.”

And Nico’s happy. Dying was an easy decision knowing there would be people around to care of him.

“And how does that make you feel?” Thalia asks.

Jason snaps out of his thoughts and looks back up to his older sister. She stares at him curiously. So does Beth. And again, their expressions are filled with worry.

Luckily, the front door chimes.

In from the storm comes Roman Percy, Reyna, and Praetor Nico—sopping wet. They make eye contact immediately—Praetor Nico’s brilliant blue gaze rising to their direction. Then, as quickly as it latched, Praetor Nico pulls away.

They break off. Reyna gestures to a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Roman Percy shoots an exasperated look in Jason’s direction—and they melt into a corner, Nico unseen.

Jason’s chest aches. “What can I do to make it up to him? I want to be on the same side for this.”

Thalia and Beth exchange yet another look. He waits, unsure of what to expect.

“Just relax, Jason,” Annabeth says finally. And she’s hesitant. “We’ll get you back home eventually.”

Jason frowns. “But—”

“Relax, baby brother,” Thalia echoes. The corner of her lip twitches. “Let’s enjoy the time we have together.”

Jason stares back at her, his chest tingling. Slowly, he nods his head. “Okay.”

Relax. He could do that. Hopefully.

*

Nico sits on the porch, rocking his heel against the swinging bench. His head is in his hands, nursing the headache from an argument everyone was too dumbfounded to stop. The sky is dark now, sunlight gone with Apollo.

That was wrong. Apollo was with his children, singing happy camp songs and blissfully unaware of the tense argument that happened beneath the roof of the Big House. He could _do_ that now, because of the demigod sitting inside. The new outlook Apollo had in his life was because of them. Because of Jason, who told him to remember.

Not that Jason, Nico reminds himself, for the umpteenth time in his head. Their Jason is dead.

Jace isn’t Jason. Even if he has the same dimples when he smiles—the little divots in his cheeks that let everyone know he was at ease. Even if he sits in the same way or _thinks_ the same way. He’s kind, and sweet, and patient—and in some ways, more restrained than the blithe smiles that Jason would give him. Nico’s afraid to hear Jace laugh. It’s a sound he hasn’t heard in a long time.

“You okay, man?”

Nico raises his head. “Percy.”

Percy stares back at him, in his royal purple NRU hoodie and hands tucked in pockets. He tilts his head expectantly.

Which is when Nico remembers the question. “I. I’m fine. Why are you out here?”

Percy blinks at him in a way only Percy could—but there’s an intensity to his gaze that Nico has grown used to seeing on the battlefield. It hasn’t waned since he and Annabeth arrived. He gestures to the swinging bench, and Nico scoots aside. “Jace asked me to check on you.”

Nico stares at him. “Jace asked you to.”

“He wanted me to make sure you’re okay.”

“He wanted _you_ to make sure I was okay,” Nico repeats.

Percy is silent for a moment, and he changes the momentum of the swinging bench. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“No,” Nico says immediately, and he pulls his gaze away. “Just. I didn’t expect you.”

He expected Frank, maybe. Hazel was busy trying to hunt down Piper with Annabeth—wherever she may be. Will and he exhausted this conversation months ago—and Nico doesn’t think it’s fair to put his ex-boyfriend through it again. Reyna is with the Huntresses. And Jason—well, Jason is dead.

“He said it had to be me,” Percy replies.

Nico’s face scrunches. “Why?”

Percy pulls reliable Riptide from his pocket and plays with the pen between his fingers. They sit in painful silence, staring off in the distance as Apollo’s ukulele carries. From the corner of his eye, Nico can _see_ Percy trying to piece together a conversation.

“Because he’s busy consoling Leo,” Percy says finally. He tucks Riptide in his pocket again. “Leo took his death hard. The last time Jason ever saw him, Leo went up in a ball of flames.”

He’s quiet.

“And the last time I saw Jason, he and Piper were getting ready to go looking for Leo. Annabeth and I were getting ready for our senior year.” Percy’s expression simmers, and he thumbs Riptide’s cap. “It never occurred to me that it’d be the _last last_ time. I thought we’d see each other again over winter break, you know?”

Nico stares at Percy carefully—at the curve of Percy’s lips, and the grimness to his eyes. It wasn’t there at the end of the summer, when both Annabeth and he left, excited to finish high school.

“I told Apollo I wasn’t helping him again when he swung by my place,” Percy admits. He shakes his head. “I couldn’t put my family through that again. _Especially_ after Leo died. I was gone for almost a _year._ But, if I’d said yes—”

“Then you could have died,” Nico interjects. “And I’d be sitting next to Jason listening to him talk about how he should have saved you.”

Riptide closes with a tiny snap. His gaze flits back to Nico, surprised.

“I’ve been down the what-ifs, Percy,” Nico warns sharply. “It only drives you crazy.”

Percy stares back at him tentatively. “Did it? With…?”

He doesn’t say her name.

“It still does, sometimes.” Nico smiles tiredly and rubs his temples, and he decides that’s all he wants to say about the subject. “Jason knew what he was doing. He was ready to die.”

“So you don’t think…with Piper’s charmspeak…?”

“I know Jason.” Nico shakes his head firmly and looks back up to Percy. “I was there every time Piper and Jason came back to camp to restock on supplies before going off to find Leo again. All three of them came to camp together. They both took his death hard. If it was _anyone_ on the Argo II, he’d volunteer himself first. He’d fight you to die first.”

Percy makes a sound—something akin to amazement. “Sounds like you _did_ know Jason really well.”

Nico’s gaze falls and he fiddles with a hole in his jeans. He tries to ignore the way his heart clenches. “We talked a lot.”

“But,” Percy continues, and he sounds troubled. “With the charmspeak. You don’t think the entire time, Piper was just…you know. Manipulating him?”

Nico hesitates. “I was on that boat. Piper’s charmspeak affected a lot of people. She even tried to use it on me so she could go to Croatia.”

“What do you mean tried? Why wouldn’t it work?”

Nico stares at him, the faintest amusement brimming in his face. 

“Oh.” Percy blinks, his demeanor morphing sheepishly. “Right. I, uh, hope you and Will are doing okay.”

“We broke up.”

“ _Oh._ ” Percy blinks, his demeanor going slack, and he turns to Nico. “Um—dude, I’m so—”

“I’m fine, Percy.”

“Okay,” Percy settles on, and he folds his hands over his lap, as though trying to look like a good student in front of a teacher. They rock again in awkward silence. “She used it on Jason and me a few times. Once, when we just left New Rome and the eidolons were with us. I didn’t even realize it was happening.”

“Piper charmspeaks like I talk to ghosts or you talk to horses.” Nico is reluctant. He curls his fingers against the hole in his jeans once more. “It’s just her power.”

“So you think her charmspeak is okay.” Percy’s voice is skeptical—but to Nico’s surprise, he thinks Percy is just considering his own reaction.

“I _don’t_ , actually.” Nico makes a face. “I just know that it’s her power. I don’t know how Aphrodite’s children _love._ Charles and Silena made it work. Piper can’t help using it any more than I can help grass withering at my feet or you causing a tidal wave. But—that doesn’t make it _okay._ She has to figure that out as much as she was trying to figure out the other parts of herself.”

Stringing Jason’s heart along isn’t _okay._ Piper had to control her words the same way Jason summoned a storm or Leo conjured fire.

Nico glares at the ground, hoping that his anger isn’t apparent.

“So Leo’s mad for Jason’s sake,” Percy concludes. “Because Jason isn’t here to be mad for himself.”

Nico could laugh, but he thinks it’d come out ill. “Jason wouldn’t be mad. He wouldn’t hold a grudge against her, either.”

“You know that, too?” Percy’s eyebrows furrow together.

“I know because we all just painfully watched Jace try to appease both of them.” Nico shakes his head. He has trouble meeting Jace’s gaze—for many reasons. Jace isn’t fazed by his death in this universe. He’s soaked every word poured his way and has spent the day trying to piece the puzzle together with demure.

Nico knows part of it is a _Hades_ thing. Will tutted him many times about _death_ and _social etiquette._

He knows the other part is a _Jason_ thing. This Jason isn’t the very least surprised that he sacrificed himself. _Why_ he sacrificed himself. This Jason offers _puzzle pieces._

They’re quiet again, for a while. The warmth of Apollo’s voice carries from the campfire but falls deaf to Nico’s ears.

“You think Piper and Leo will be okay?” Percy asks.

Nico shrugs. “Jason wouldn’t want them to fight. Jace is right. Grieving makes people say things they don’t mean. And hurt people when they don’t mean to.”

He shifts awkwardly in his seat. He knows that feeling all too well.

Percy falls quiet once again. “What about when you hurt someone when you’re not the one grieving?”

Nico pauses. He turns to meet Percy’s face, and notices Percy staring at him. Notices Percy gauging his reaction. Nico’s hands twitch in his lap and he bites the inside of his mouth. A lump swells at the back of Nico’s throat, and he curls one hand over the other.

“We,” Nico says slowly, swallowing hard, “don’t have to do this tonight, Percy. Not while Jace is here.”

_Please,_ not while Jace is here.

“Okay.” Percy falls quiet again, but his voice is filled with a worry that makes Nico’s skin crawl. “I…told you how I handled it. How did you take Jason’s death?”

As hard as Bianca’s. Nico resists the urge to smack his face against the swinging bench.

Luckily, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper emerge from the darkness, hand-in-hand. Nico can’t stand fast enough.

Piper looks worse for wear. Nico knows better than to stare. When Apollo told him Jason died, Nico barreled through a field of grass and excused himself to cry. Piper’s eyes are rimmed with bags, her irises red from tears. Her mouth is clamped shut, evidently untrusting of her own words.

Annabeth flashes a look at Percy, murmuring something soft beneath her breath. Then, she follows Piper into the Big House, hand on the other demigod’s back.

Nico greets Hazel with a kiss on the cheek. “How’s she doing?”

Hazel’s gold eyes flicker, and her eyebrows contort. Then she shrugs. “She was doing better before Jace got here.”

Nico’s chest tightens, and he can’t help but feel protective over Jace. “Those issues were long before Jace.”

His sister looks back at him, studying Nico, and then she shakes her head. “I said Piper was doing better. I didn’t say it was better for everyone else.”

He blinks, unsure of how to soak in her words. And then Nico nods, and follows in suit with his sister.

Leo and Piper make quiet eye contact from across the room—but quickly avert their gazes. Nico expects Jace to inspect Piper first—but instead, Jace’s gaze falls to him, a line of worry appearing between his brow. Nico hates how his heart flutters with it.

This Jason likes boys, it says.

This Jason has a boyfriend, Nico reminds it. A sour taste covers the back of his mouth.

Piper beelines towards Jace. He stares back at her, confused.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, and she hangs her head in shame, “that I charmspoke you earlier. I didn’t mean to get inside your head.”

Jace fidgets in his stool. “It’s fine, Piper.”

“It was never fine, Jason,” Piper retorts.

There’s a dizziness that fills the room again. This time, Leo clamps a hand on Jace’s knee, a frown on his lips that tears everyone’s attention away from the sound of Piper’s voice. Jace startles from the touch—but suddenly, Leo is on his feet and glaring warily at his best friend.

Piper glares back at first, then it withers. “I’ll work on it so it doesn’t happen again. To anyone. I know you’re not…you’re not _our_ Jason. But thank you. I’m sorry that—that I _ever_ charmspoke you.” She holds back a sob. “That it was always you.” 

Nico wishes Jace would stop peering back at him, like asking for permission. It’s tentative—and he thinks he sees Jace’s eyes roam, but then the gaze returns to Piper. A Piper who is expecting nothing in return for her words.

“I…” Jace’s voice trails off. And again, he reiterates the same words. “It’s fine, Piper.”

Piper stares back at him, her eyebrows knit together. She doesn’t say a word—not to coerce him this time, but Jace squirms all the same.

“I just—” Jace grimaces. “—I’m not that Jason. I can’t—I can’t take that apology for him.”

Her demeanor scrunches, evidently unsatisfied with the answer, but she doesn’t pursue. Instead, Piper swallows hard, kicking her converse into the floorboard.

“I understand,” she says, and she hugs herself. “I’m—I hope your boyfriend treats you better.”

At that, Jace’s eyes brighten, and he smiles. “Every day.”

Nico forces himself to suck in a breath. He pretends not to notice Hazel’s look of concern as it flashes his way.

Finally, Annabeth stands to her feet and guides Piper back to her seat—far away from Leo. Before she does, she makes eye contact with Jace again. “I got ahold with Thalia and Reyna.”

Again, Jace’s eyes brighten, and Nico feels his stomach drop.

“Yeah?” Jace asks.

“They’ll be able to get away two days from now if we can’t get this figured out.” Annabeth offers a smile—almost mirroring Jace’s own.

But then, Jace’s smile wanes, and he sits a little lower in his seat. There’s disappointment in his expression that makes Nico worry. “If.”

“If,” Annabeth repeats—and she seems to pick up on it too. “The Huntresses travel a lot, Jace. I don’t think our Jason ever went shorter than a month without seeing his sister.”

They watch as Jace’s eyebrows furrow briefly, his face returning to that grimace—but then he nods. “Yeah. I know about the Huntresses.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, Jace slowly gathers to his feet, standing tall compared to the rest of the demigods in the Big House.

“I guess we should figure things out for the time being,” Jace says. With hesitation, he adds, “so Reyna and Thalia don’t have to waste a trip.”

His gaze turns back to Nico, inquisitive. Nico snaps out of his own thoughts as Hazel guides him to his seat.

“What’d you have in mind?” Percy asks.

“Well. Apollo said me being here isn’t because of a war anytime soon.” Jace looks over to Nico for reaffirmation. He gestures to the faint shadows at his feet. The tendrils dance across the floorboard slowly—and there’s one small audible gasp.

Jace Grace, son of Hades. Son of shadows. Not their Jason.

Jace evidently picks up on this too. He pauses in his explanation to look up—then continues. “Maybe Nico’s right. Maybe the shadows are connected. I could’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere without knowing it. I’ve been trying to shadowtravel out of this Camp Halfblood since I got here—but…nothing. I can’t seem to go anywhere.”

Nico feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “You’ve already tried to leave?”

The silence is palpable. Nico’s chest hurts. He knows it’s dumb—he gathered everyone at Camp Halfblood to figure out what to _do_ with Jace. But up until now, Leo and Piper’s outburst had taken precedent. Everyone crying and mourning their Jason’s death had taken precedent.

So he knows it’s stupid to hurt like this, after purposefully gathering everyone to watch Jace leave.

He thinks he sees Jace’s eyes flickering, a sliver of concern between his brows.

“I—” Jace falls quiet. “Yeah, Nico. At least I was until you found me.”

Nico bites on the inside of his mouth. “Go on.”

After a moment of silence, Jace carries on. “I bet shadowtraveling has something to do with it. I can’t do it myself—but I was able to travel with my sister once. We used our powers and bounced off of each other. Maybe we could do the same thing. But, um.”

His voice halts, and he stares at Nico with concern.

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of touch,” Jace finishes.

Oh. Nico flushes red, and he ignores the many eyes on him.

“Hazel,” Jace says softly, “if…you don’t mind—”

“No.” Nico stands to his feet, pulling his hand away from his sister’s. “I found you. It—it only makes sense that I help bring you back.”

Before he can get too far, Hazel grabs his arm and stares at him warily. “Nothing stupid, big brother. Not like last summer.”

“I know,” Nico reassures—and he warms once again as Jace flashes him a look of concern. “I promise, Hazel. I’m here.”

_Here_ finds them outside, under the darkness of the night sky. It finds Nico standing parallel to Jace for the first time since this morning—and much closer. It finds the rest of the Argo II crew standing on the front porch with the hard light of the Big House’s rec room shining behind them—with Leo and Piper on opposite sides of the porch. With Percy’s gaze filled with more concern than the last time they ever spoke, and Hazel’s gaze forever locked on Nico and his wellbeing.

The winter night is dark, but the shadows are darker with Jace in front of him. Nico almost forgot how tall Jason was. Their Jason always felt as a skyscraper—hard and steady for others to lean on. This Jason is very much the same.

The scar on his lip, is very much the same. Along with the width of his shoulders, and just the way he stands. And the smile—is so eerily perfect.

“Hope this works,” Jace whispers. “Thanks, Nico.”

Nico’s afraid of what will happen if it doesn’t work. He’s even more afraid, if it does.

“Nico?” Jace asks, and his voice is filled with concern.

“Me too,” Nico says finally, and he reluctantly raises his hands. “I—frankly, I’m surprised you trust me so much on this.”

He can hear Jace smiling in the darkness. “I’ve trusted you on a lot less.”

Nico’s heart skips a beat. And he… _hates_ it. He can’t afford it to.

Leo sprints up to them and gives Jace a pat on the shoulder. His free hand flickers with a small fireball. “Just…in case I don’t see you again.”

Jace doesn’t answer right away. Beneath the small flames, Nico thinks he sees a strained smile—but it’s hard to say. “Thanks for being a friend, Leo.”

Leo sucks in a hard breath and nods slowly. “Thanks for being closure, Jace.”

He relinquishes with a sigh and turns his gaze to Nico.

“Take care of our boy, okay, Nico?” Leo asks—and he smiles. “Between you and me, I hope it doesn’t work.”

Jace doesn’t respond. Nico has to force himself to.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “Our boy.”

There’s another quiet, satisfied smile—then Leo sprints back to the porch, away from Piper.

“Ready?” Nico asks. He swallows tight and extends his hand.

“If you are.” Jace reaches out with a hand of his own.

It’s the way he reaches out that startles Nico. Jace’s touch is cold—so different from the heat that Nico has come to expect from Jason’s embrace. He’s busy reminding himself that this is Jace, son of Hades, and not Jason, Nico’s first and best friend. But—Jace’s touch makes Nico’s pulse spike—like dunking his head in a tub of ice water.

Jace’s fingers trace down the inside of Nico’s forearm—then caresses the surface of Nico’s wrist, searching for…something. His fingers lace together with Nico’s own, so loving and gentle that—

—that it’s too much.

The sensation hits Nico like a freight train. Nico’s drowning in ice water because it’s _too_ _much_.

His heart rate spikes, and he staggers back—as far away from Jace’s touch as he can muster. Jace’s sweet, tender touch, which sends a numbness through the rest of Nico. Red heat dusts over Nico’s face—but he’s cold and his mind buzzes with a cacophony of panic.

The touch is _fond_ and _intimate_ , and too much. Jace is _too_ _much_.

A Jason Grace who likes boys. Who has a _boyfriend._ Who’s one step away from leaving, _again_. Who never told Nico that he was bi, and kept _so much_ to himself.

“Nico?” Jace asks—and the red in Nico’s face suddenly burns with shame. Jace is _looking_ at him, soaking in his horrible reaction.

“Sorry,” Nico breathes, and his own heart rattles so hard that it joins the fray of his mind. “I. I can’t do this right now.”

He covers his face momentarily—then he darts in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying it so far! I think i'm going to take a break and slow down a little, but hopefully this one will keep you entertained for a while!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel finds Nico later, hiding. “Nico.”
> 
> Nico grimaces at the sound of her voice, the comforter tucked firmly over his head so he’s nothing more than a lump in his bed. He’s quiet. Nico grazes the inside of his arm—brushing right where Jace touched him—and he feels the goosebumps rise against his skin. He’s done it a thousand times in the last hour—and every time, his heart aches.
> 
>  _Stop it,_ he snaps at it.
> 
>  _No,_ his heart retorts.

Thalia and he have an apartment together. Right down the streets of the via principalis, past the two praetorhouses—one for Praetor Nico, one for Praetor Reyna. Jason’s gaze lingers under the rain as he stares at the pair of houses, and he’s reminded how little time he spent in his praetorhouse before Juno shipped him off to Colorado.

“What’s wrong?” Thalia asks—and her hand is on his pulse again.

“Nothing,” Jason murmurs—and he knows she’s still staring. Jason has a hand in the air, waving away raindrops from the storm like an invisible umbrella. When he’d done it at Temple Hill, Thalia had tilted her head in interest—and he doesn’t think she’s pulled away since. “I lived in one of these for about a month. I was a praetor.”

He feels Thalia squeeze his shoulder, and a proud smile glimmers against her lips. “So was I.”

Jason’s chest blooms at the thought. He takes note of the ten stripes over his sister’s arm, and the tiny worried lines at the edges of her eyes. There’s an earthy quality to the hue of her irises—of a grounded Thalia versus the sister that is always preparing for the next stop for her lady.

Their apartment is small, but cozy. Jason never understood how the Legion could pride themselves on working in teams, and then house their leaders far from the barracks. It was isolating compared to having Gwen and Dakota and the rest of the Fifth Cohort close to him.

There’s nothing isolating about their apartment. Pictures hang over every wall in sharp, black frames. A blanket drapes over a gray couch, ready to be used for weekend movie nights. There are dirty dishes in the sink, set aside with the intent to be cleaned later, and two mugs sitting on the dining table, still half-filled.

“Whoops,” Thalia notes, not nearly as stunned as Jason feels. “Sorry—my turn to clean.”

Jason stares at her, mesmerized. “You clean?”

A sheepish look flashes across her face. She scoops up a heap of laundry from the sofa and sets it on the floor. “Not really. Want something to drink?”

She’s messy. Jason doesn’t see her often to know that fact. He could laugh. “I’m okay.”

“Six marshmallows, then?” Thalia is already at the pantry, pulling out packets of hot cocoa. “It’s good for a storm.”

“Okay.” Jason doesn’t argue. He gravitates towards the picture frames.

The first to catch his eye is a picture of Thalia, Roman Percy, and Praetor Nico. He stares at it for a moment—of little Nico nestled between a young Percy and a young Thalia. She looks closer to what he remembers—fourteen or fifteen, maybe, staring at a CD player. Little Nico has some earbuds in, and a thirteen/fourteen-year-old Percy is waving around a CD in his hand. Thalia and Percy are arguing, Jason thinks—but they look like they’re having a fun time doing it.

Really—Jason doesn’t think he’s _ever_ seen the three of them in the same room. He’s never seen Percy and Nico look so comfortable with each other, either.

Another is a selfie of Reyna and Thalia—clearly taken on a date. There’s a peace in Reyna’s eyes—something that Jason didn’t stick around long enough to see back in his world. They hold onto each other lovingly on a west coast pier—and he can tell that this Thalia is happy.

Jason stops when he catches sight of blond hair belonging to himself. The resemblance is startling.

Jace is paler. He’s tall beside Thalia—and Jason can only assume they’re the same height. Jace’s hair is scraggly—long enough to fold in waves around his ears. The longest Jason ever kept his hair was aboard the Argo II. The Legion and Terminus beat it into Jason as a child to keep his hair short. Keep his shirt tucked. Keep his shoelaces double-knotted. Even as he found a home in Camp Halfblood, Jason had a hard time shaking that habit. Edgartan’s dress code had that familiar nagging.

This Jason holds no bars on his arm. No tattoo or emblem to the people of Rome, or an eagle in the name of his father. There’s not even a glyph—just a smile on the same scarred lip—tentative and shy beside his big sister.

Their big sister—who’s dressed so similarly to the one Jason has grown to know and feels different in every way. She waves around a set of keys to the cameraman.

“Move-in day,” Thalia says beside him. She hands him a black mug with the skeleton of a dachshund on it. “Right before the school year started. You and I spent the whole summer together.”

Jason’s chest grows warm. “The whole summer?”

“What better way to get to know your estranged brother than go backpacking with him for two months?” Thalia smiles behind her spiked mug and nudges him affectionately. “Shadowtraveling is cheaper than airfare.”

He peers back at the photos—not even sure where to begin. “There are more photos than I expected.”

His eyes fall to a photo of Jace, slouched over a birthday cake with a crooked blue party hat. The _17_ candles sparkle beneath the darkness of the room. Thalia is to the left of Jace, an infectious grin beneath her black lipstick. Praetor Nico is to the right—and there’s a softness to his face as he looks to Jace, eyes brimming with an overwhelming affection that was missing earlier today.

Not missing, Jason realizes. Just overshadowed by worry.

“Bianca insists on capturing every moment,” Thalia explains. And then she falls quiet, slowly resting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “That was the first birthday I celebrated with you in fifteen years.”

Jason feels his stomach knot. “I’ve never celebrated my birthday.”

His sixteenth birthday was spent in Rome, waiting for Annabeth to find the Athena Parthenos. And before that—never. He would’ve been seventeen this year, like this Jason, but…that’s not going to happen. A birthday beside his big sister and the boy he liked isn’t... _ever_ going to happen now.

Then, Thalia’s words come back to mind. Jason cocks his head back, confused. “Bianca’s alive? Nico’s Bianca?”

Thalia eyes him carefully, then shakes her head dismissively. “A story for another time. Why don’t you get changed so I don’t have to keep stifling the urge to bow and pay respects?”

It feels a little weird to be dismissed to someone else’s room that’s technically his own. Jace’s bedroom hits Jason more than he expects. There’s a fluffy comforter over a full-sized bed. A few knickknacks on his desk, and some framed photos.

The room is neater—so Jason gets a hunch that Jace and he have a knack for cleaning that their sister lacks. A nicely patterned rug decorates the floor. In the bookshelf are a few sketchbooks that Jason’s afraid to touch, beside a colorful assortment of cookbooks.

It's…personal. More personal than a cot wedged in the alcove of Zeus’s Cabin, so his father’s hippie statue wasn’t constantly staring at him. More personal than a dorm room that Jason knew he’d only have for a few more weeks before his death.

There’s a photo on Jace’s nightstand. Praetor Nico and Jace, huddled beneath a blanket beside the hearth in Camp Halfblood. Praetor Nico is bundled up and nestled tight against Jace, siphoning warmth from the other demigod. His hand is curled against a set of beads hanging off his wrist, mindful of them even with his eyes closed.

And just like the birthday photo, and the photo with his sister, Jace looks…happy. Really happy.

“Having trouble finding things?”

Jason whirls around, his cheeks growing warm like he’s been caught red-handed. Thalia looks back to him—and her gaze falls to the picture frame that Jason had unknowingly picked up. He slowly sets it down.

“Sorry,” Jason apologizes. “I got distracted.”

Thalia’s smile softens. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Jason’s hand curls, which is when he realizes the frame hasn’t departed from his fingers. He’s slow to relinquish his grip on the sweet image. His mind drifts—and Jason can almost imagine being that close to his own Nico—like when his hugs started lingering a moment too long. When Jason wanted to hold on, just a little longer.

“Shirts are over there,” Thalia says, and she gestures to the closet.

First, Jason reaches for the closet. Then he pauses. “This…feels weird. Are you sure he wouldn’t mind?”

Thalia simply arches an eyebrow. “Would you mind sharing your clothes with someone in need?”

“No,” Jason confesses. Then, “Oh.”

His cheeks burn again, at the sight of amusement in his sister’s face, so he slowly rifles through the closet. He’s confused at what he finds—or rather, doesn’t.

“No Legion shirts?” he asks.

“Jace isn’t in the Legion.”

“Really?” Jason cocks his head back to Thalia. He’d gotten that sense from the photos, but hearing it said aloud is just…feels different. Real.

Thalia nods carefully—and in the end, just digs through her brother’s dresser for a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Jace already spent fourteen years living at Camp Halfblood. He didn’t want to enlist in an army for ten more years. His time is done as a hero.”

Something about that makes Jason’s stomach twist. He frowns. It just doesn’t…sound right. “He really grew up at Camp Halfblood for all of those years.”

There’s something akin to sadness in her eyes. Thalia lowers her head slowly—the nods again. “Yeah, he did.”

“And he left and came here,” Jason continues, and a pang of jealousy grows in his stomach. “To grow up with you.”

This time, Thalia’s lips raise into a smile, flickering with amusement. “I’m pretty sure he moved for Nico, too.”

Jason blinks, his cheeks dusting pink at the earnestness of her words. His gaze slowly rises back to the photo on the nightstand, pondering. But—before he can get too far, Thalia curls a hand on his shoulder and gives him a soft squeeze.

“But most importantly,” Thalia admits, “I think he left for himself.”

Again, Jason’s chest tightens. He picks up another photo perched on Jace’s bookshelf—of two-year-old Jace being squeezed tightly by a much older Thalia on some beach. Their mother is in the background, decked out in a white bathing suit and smiling fondly with a pina colada in her hand. Jason traces the drink with his finger—and he feels Thalia’s eyes against him.

“Was mom…?” she asks slowly.

“Drunk driving accident,” Jason finishes, and she nods her head somberly. He places the photo back on the bookshelf. “Long after me. You’d already been turned into a tree for a while—” Thalia flashes him an inquisitive look, and he mimics her dismissive gesture from earlier. A story for another time. “—and when you came back to life, you found out she died.”

Thalia stares at him. “Jace was in the car with her when it happened.”

Gods. Jason hangs his head and shakes it. “Weird.”

“Definitely weird,” Thalia agrees. “Camp Halfblood was suffocating for him. Everything about the prophecy haunted him even after he slayed Kronos. Here, he doesn’t have to worry about that. Any of it.”

Jason hesitates. He thinks of the one bead he earned at the end of summer—the one painted with the names of everyone who fell after Gaea. The one with a hammer on it, to commemorate Leo delivering the final blow.

“I never felt freer than when I left Camp Jupiter,” he confesses. “There were good things about New Rome, but—it never felt like me. I always felt like I had to be someone else for the Senate. I felt like I could be myself in Camp Halfblood.”

He raises his gaze, searching his sister’s eyes to see if she has an answer. So far, she hasn’t disappointed him. She’s surprised him, even, with wisdom he didn’t expect.

“But then we found out my friend, Leo, was alive after Gaea,” he continues, “and…he’d sacrificed himself for us. For me. I felt like I owed it to him to go looking for him.”

“Until you ended up in Pasadena instead,” Thalia finishes for him, and her gaze dims. “Where you waited to die. That doesn’t sound very _freeing_ to me, baby brother.”

The debacle crops back up, whether Jason wants it to or not. He thinks back to Praetor Nico’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-ridden cheeks—and how devastated Thalia looked earlier, beneath the Juno Moneta. The guilt bubbles in his chest.

“I wasn’t going to let someone else die to keep me safe,” he says quietly. He wishes people would understand that. “I wasn’t going to let it happen again. Watching my best friend die was the worst feeling in the world. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if that happened to Piper, too.”

“You know what’s also an awful feeling?” Thalia asks. “Standing across a hilltop and finding out your sibling’s dead.”

The spot where Caligula pierced him hurts. Jason presses a palm to it, and he bows his head with shame. “I’m sorry, Thalia. I hate to put you through this.”

Her gaze flickers again, bemused, as her eyebrows knit together. Then she places her other hand on him. “Jason, I’m talking about how _you_ reacted.”

Jason stares at her, and the corner of her lip twitches sadly.

“You were convinced you were in Elysium this morning,” she reminds him. “You thought that I’d died with you. And you were _terrified._ ”

He finds his eyes stinging, but Thalia’s expression doesn’t waver. Jason swallows hard. “I. You swore an oath to Artemis to be immortal forever. If you die, then it’s in battle. And I. I never want you to die.”

Thalia’s own eyes shine, and the expression on her face is soft. She presses the back of her hand to his cheek, sweet and affectionate, and nods slowly. “Ditto, baby brother.”

Jason blinks away tears, unsure of what to say.

“Now,” Thalia announces, “get changed. We’re not going to get this swap problem figured out tonight—but it doesn’t do anyone any good if we’re tired. We can put a movie in.”

Still, Jason is at a loss of words. He nods slowly, and she leaves him to his own devices.

Jason undresses from the robes he was buried in—and a needling thought makes him wonder if he should have ever worn them in the first place. He made a promise to the gods—to serve both pantheons, and honor all minor gods and goddesses, so he could go back and forth between both camps. So he could be Greek _and_ Roman.

So he was bound to both Greece and New Rome.

This Jason…wasn’t bound by that. He cut the shackles that tied him to Camp Halfblood and moved to New Rome. He moved for a boy and his big sister—while Jason couldn’t stand staying in Camp Halfblood and be happy knowing Leo died.

He moved to Pasadena to find out more about his mom because his only living relative wouldn’t offer a word about her. He moved, because he couldn’t stand lingering around camp and watching the boy he’d accidentally started falling for fall for someone else. Because Chiron told him he needed to go back to school. Jason died because he wasn’t going to let someone else die for him again.

He stands at the doorway, stripped of the pontifex robes. Jason watches as Thalia sifts through streaming services. A question weighs heavy on his chest.

“You really would’ve left the Huntresses for me?” he asks softly.

Thalia looks up from the couch, lit only by the dim light of the TV. She pats the cushion beside her, and Jason is slow to reach her side.

They’re quiet. Jason’s afraid he’s asked a question that she’ll finally dismiss—but there’s a sorrowful look glinting in her eyes.

“You were supposed to come to camp when you were old enough,” she says finally. “Mom and I didn’t get along. I came home for summers and winter break, but it was a mutual understanding that we were better off not seeing each other. And she promised—she _promised_ —”

Her hands curl into fists and her voice echoes with a rage.

“—that she would take care of you.” Thalia simmers in her ire, and her hand flies out to curl around Jason’s. “Dad—Pluto—was convinced she was doing better. And then I went on a quest, and I got lost in the Lotus Casino for a few years. When I came out, I found out Mom had died. I thought _you_ had died.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow.

“Maybe I would have joined the Huntresses in another life. I guess I did in your world,” Thalia admits, “But I found another demigod in the Casino. He didn’t belong in there anymore than I did—and he’d been in there longer.”

Jason finds himself connecting the dots quickly. “Nico and Bianca.”

“Just Nico.” As he looks up to meet Thalia’s gaze, he watches her smile sadden—a quiet anguish that binds her to Praetor Nico. “I should have been around to notice the signs that Mom was getting bad again. I should’ve been around to save you. Maybe then we would’ve grown up together.”

“Thalia,” he protests, as he hears her voice constricting. “You were a kid. You didn’t know any better.”

“Jace.” Thalia reaches out and places another hand on top of his. “You still are one.”

Jason’s stomach flops. He stares up at her, the words disappearing from the back of his mouth. She soaks in his reaction.

“Anyway,” Thalia continues, “finding out you were still alive was the happiest day of my life. I even forbade you from going on the ship as one of the Seven. I didn’t want to risk losing you again.”

He stares at her in disbelief. “What’d I say to that?”

“You went looking for the Doors of Death instead.” Thalia’s smile turns wry and filled with worry, and her gaze lifts to Jason. “You couldn’t rest.”

He makes a face. The way Thalia recounts it makes it sound like a _bad_ thing. For the first time, Jason thinks it is. He doesn’t understand how Jace could throw their connection away so quickly.

But he also understands wanting to do anything to protect it. 

“We live together now because I don’t want to go another day without you,” Thalia finishes softly. “I want to be the big sister you never got growing up. The one you deserved. So yeah. I would’ve left the Huntresses for you.”

Around them are pictures of their lives together and a blanket to share in the living room. There are mugs with little sayings and emblems, and small furnishings meant for the both of them. And still, Jason wants to laugh because it still feels too good to be true.

“I bet your Thalia was devastated when you died,” Thalia says, and she gives his arm a firm squeeze. “If she’s anything like me.”

She’s not, he wants to say. That Thalia ran away from home when she was ten. She traveled the country to make it to Camp Halfblood, fended off monsters sent by Hades, and escaped death by turning into a tree. She left her old life behind, shed her last name when that was all Jason could cling to for his identity outside of _Son of Jupiter_ , and forsook a prophecy by swearing an oath to Artemis.

His big sister Thalia, daughter of Zeus, moved forward. She’s still moving forward. Jason has no doubt that she’ll bounce back from his death, too.

This Thalia…only lived six hours away from camp. She waited for him. This Thalia became a big sister to someone else when she thought that duty was taken away from her. This Thalia loved him fully, rather than in passing.

“What’s wrong?” This Thalia asks.

This Thalia notices when he’s upset. She doesn’t talk about how she needs to get going for Artemis’s latest errand.

“I.” Jason swallows thickly and smiles. He smiles so hard that it _hurts_ —and his chest aches with it. “I’m just glad I’m finally getting to spend time with you.”

She returns his smile—and Jason thinks he can find the resemblance between them in the way the edges of their lips curl. Thalia places the dachshund mug back in his hands. “Me too. Now—”

Thalia reaches out for the remote and presses play.

“I hope you like Stranger Things.” She grins.

*

Hazel finds Nico later, hiding. “Nico.”

Nico grimaces at the sound of her voice, the comforter tucked firmly over his head so he’s nothing more than a lump in his bed. He’s quiet. Nico grazes the inside of his arm—brushing right where Jace touched him—and he feels the goosebumps rise against his skin. He’s done it a thousand times in the last hour—and every time, his heart aches.

_Stop it_ , he snaps at it.

_No_ , his heart retorts.

He’s silent for too long. Hazel calls his name again with a little more worry. “Nico—answer, please.”

“I’m here, Hazel,” Nico whispers finally, and his hand settles at the arch of his wrist again. “I promise.”

Eventually, he pulls the blanket off his head and meets her worried gaze. In her hand is a plate of food and Nico can only guess it’s for him.

“You missed dinner,” she remarks.Hazel slides onto the bed and pushes the plate of pasta in his direction. Nico knows better to protest. He accepts the food and spins his fork in angel-hair pasta.

They’re quiet. Hazel won’t talk to him until he’s finished most of his food. It’s warm, at least. When he gets to the point where he’s scraping noodles instead of spinning them, Nico speaks. “Did everyone else eat?”

Her gaze is on his fork—but then she nods. “We decided it was a good idea to take a break with how intense things were getting. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet today.”

“I hadn’t yet,” he mumbles. Pink dusts across Nico’s cheeks, and he tucks his legs beneath himself. “Thank you.”

Hazel gives him a stern look, and Nico pretends not to notice. For her sake, he conjures another half-helping of pasta, and she relinquishes her gaze.

He eats until his hunger is quenched and sets his plate aside. Then, Nico fiddles with the hems of his socks. “Did you and he try to shadowtravel?”

“No.” Hazel smooths out the wrinkles in her shirt and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “We stopped after you left. He’s worried about you.”

Again, Nico’s face miserably reddens, and his hand falls to the inlay of his arm.

Hazel stares at him. “He’s worried everything he’s doing is making you feel worse.”

“It’s not,” Nico blurts out. He whips his head back to her, his heart ramming in his chest, and his eyebrows pinch together. “He told you this?”

The corner of her lip twitches—far too knowing for his liking—but he’ s grown to rely on it. Especially in the past summer. Hazel reaches out and places a hand on his. “You and I are still siblings in his world. We’re still close.” 

Thank gods. Nico lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t expect to be holding—but he is relieved. He doesn’t want to consider a world where he doesn’t have Hazel.

He’s already lost Bianca. And Jason. And Reyna, too.

Reyna, who’ll be here with the Huntresses in two days. Nico’s stomach twists with an uncomfortable nausea and he almost clings onto Hazel’s hand.

“I was going to check up on you anyway—but he insisted.” Hazel tilts her head curiously at him, a confusion in her eyes. “Apparently things with Percy didn’t go as expected?”

Nico bites back a groan. He stares at his empty plate. “I don’t know anything about that one.”

She shrugs and doesn’t press further. Nico’s grateful for that. He doesn’t think he can talk about _Bianca_ with Percy and his old feelings for Percy with Hazel in the same night. Not in the same night, where he found out that Jason liked boys, too. Where Jason could’ve…could’ve liked _him_ , too.

Not their Jason, Nico reminds himself quickly. Again. Miserably. He clangs his fork against his plate.

There’s no telling if their Jason liked boys, too. It never came up in conversation. And—

And even if he _did,_ Jason didn’t think it was important to tell Nico.

“It’s weird, right?” she asks him softly. “He’s not… _exactly_ like Jason, but—so much is the same. We carried on a whole conversation during dinner and he was just _asking_ me how I was. How my mist powers were going. You wouldn’t even know he was dead.”

“Ours is dead, Hazel,” Nico tugs his legs under his chin. He surrenders his hand for her, giving her palm a soft squeeze so she knows he’s there.

He doesn’t miss the way Hazel stares at him—just... _knowing_.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Will and you broke up?” she asks, and her voice fills with concern.

Nico bites back another groan.

“The last time I was here, you told me you two were working on things.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t want to answer.

“Nico,” Hazel persists.

“I’m here,” Nico says reflexively, and he can’t meet her gaze. His voice cracks, and his hand trembles in hers. “This is what we worked out.”

And then she stares at him, soft and pitying in a way that he was hoping to avoid. He knows why she’s worried. They’d lost track of each other because communications were down. After everything that went on with Jason—after how long it took for everyone to _know_ about Jason’s death, and Frank’s near-death, and Leo’s revival—she doesn’t want them to lose track of each other again. Nico doesn’t, either.

He just didn’t think this is where they’d end up—hiding out in his cabin while the doppelganger of his first and best friend was just outside. He didn’t think he could _hurt_ like this again.

“It was mutual,” Nico whispers. “I’m fine.”

Hazel is still staring at him. From the corner of his eye, he catches the hue of her eyes, and they’re only filled with worry.

“What else did you and Jace talk about?” he asks, if only to change the subject. His heart can only take so much.

She stares at him momentarily, trying to find the gap between his words—but nods slowly. “How things are different there. I’m the Greek one, apparently. Frank and I are still together over there.” Her lips crease into a smooth line at that fact. “You’re Roman.”

Nico snorts. He can’t even fathom dressing in a Legion shirt and cutting his hair.

“We talked about you,” Hazel continues—and Nico cocks his head back, alarmed.

“About what?”

“Nothing that you wouldn’t tell a complete stranger.” Hazel’s eyes flicker at him suspiciously, and Nico’s cheeks flush. “We talked about sleeping arrangements for the night.”

Nico shifts on his mattress. “What about them?”

“Well—he’s Jason. Jason sleeps in Zeus’s Cabin—”

Nico’s hand is suddenly tight on hers, his lip contorting with worry—and he knows she knows it. Jason’s Cabin. Zeus’s Cabin. No one’s touched it since his death. Piper and Leo didn’t visit camp often anymore—not when Piper’s dad was in Tahlequah and Leo had a family in Indianapolis. Nico was next on the list to clean out Jason’s stuff—but. He couldn’t. He still can’t, even after almost a year since Jason’s death.

Hazel stares at him, taking every bit of his reaction. “But he’s also a son of Hades. Cabin Thirteen is where he sleeps in his own world.”

Nico considers this. “There are only two beds in here.”

“I’d be sleeping with the Hecate Cabin,” Hazel says. She brushes another hand over his, scrutinizing him. “Lou Ellen has been wanting to show me some new tricks.”

Oh. Nico blinks, considering this possibility in his head. Jason had countless sleepovers in his cabin before. The marble columns and ceramic ceiling of Cabin One were often too much for him. They were too bright. The statue of Zeus was domineering—and while Jason could _tolerate_ it, he found relief in the gloomy black walls and the dim curtains of the Hades Cabin. Nico found a friend, to separate from the nightmares of Tartarus.

But those sleepovers had stopped when Will and he started dating. Nico figured Will’s company would replace his yearning for Jason’s—but he was in for a rude awakening when it didn’t.

Nico’s hand is on his wrist again. “I…guess that makes sense.”

Hazel flashes him a sympathetic look—one that makes Nico’s cheeks tingle. “Jace said he was perfectly fine sleeping in the Big House. He didn’t want to spook you anymore.”

This time, Nico’s cheeks burn. His jaw tightens, and he hides his hands in his lap, away from his sister to see. “I don’t get spooked. I’m the _Ghost King_ and he’s not a ghost.”

No—the fact that this Jason Grace was very much alive is what bothers him.

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Do you want to talk about why you ran away then?”

“No.”

Hazel sighs and picks up his plate.

“Where are you going?” Nico asks.

“To Lou Ellen’s.”

“But—Jace is staying at the Big House.” Nico watches as her form retreats towards the door. “Hazel—wait.”

She whirls around and glares at him with unwarranted exasperation. “You clearly don’t want to talk about it with me. And you have a _golden_ opportunity to _finally_ talk about it with _him_ —” She throws a hand towards the door. “—and _finally_ get closure, Nico. To finally be at peace with his death. And you’re not taking it.”

Nico blinks at her, reluctant—but she doesn’t press on. She stares at him knowingly, expectantly. And he bows his head, fiddling with his ring.

“What if I don’t like what I hear?” Nico asks quietly.

“When has Jason _ever_ said something that you didn’t want to hear, big brother?”

When he told Nico to come out of the shadows. And that had been one of the most liberating decisions in Nico’s life.

They’re quiet again. Hazel’s frustration is teeming through her frown—but it’s out of love and concern. It always is, for him. “I’m here. For you. Okay, big brother?”

He’s reluctant to answer—but Nico bows his head. Not necessarily a yes, but not a no, either. Hazel crosses the room one last time to press a kiss to his cheek and let him know there’s no ill will. Then she dismisses herself for the night—evidently deciding not to partake in Nico’s miserable heart for the night.

Nico slumps back in his bed.

Before he knows it, he’s tracing his wrist again in the same way Jace did—with the soft, gentle touch that was foreign to him. Nico had forgotten what it was like to stand in front of Jason— _a_ Jason—with the curve of that jaw and the benevolence of that smile.

He's not sure if he agrees with Hazel—of being able to just _look_ at Jace and pick a conversation up as though nothing’s changed. As though Jason’s brilliant blue eyes aren’t now a warm charcoal. But Hazel and Frank saw Jason less. They didn’t carry on a conversation with Jason the way Nico did.

They didn’t… _know_ Jason, the way that Nico did.

And after this afternoon, Nico’s wondering if he really knew Jason either. He stubbornly pushes that thought out of his mind. Reminds himself that this isn’t his Jason.

_Their_ Jason, he corrects in his head.

And slowly, Nico gathers to his feet. With a resigned sigh, he massages his forehead and shadowtravels to the Big House.

It’s late by the time he gathers the courage to. Apollo’s songs have died out, replaced only by the crackling of the campfire. The lights are out in most of the cabins—and the windows are dim in the Big House. Nico can only assume that Mr. D and Chiron have also retired from the night, after offering absolutely nothing in the form of advice.

Nico thinks the lights of Cabin Three are still on. He wonders if Percy and Annabeth are trying to formulate a plan of their own. Festus is gone—having probably retired to Bunker Nine. He’s not even sure where Piper ended up. Nico thinks back to what Leo said—about not wanting Jace to leave.

His chest hurts.

With great reluctance, Nico pushes that aside and slinks into the Big House. He walks past the rec room into the small series of guest bedrooms—and stops, as he sees lamp light leaking beneath the door.

Nervousness in Nico’s stomach. He raises his hand and gives a slow knock. “Jace? It’s…Nico.”

No answer.

Nico knocks again, and something bites at his nerves. “Jace?”

He knocks once more, with no avail.

“Jason,” Nico starts, and the worry creeps in his voice. His hand falls to the doorknob—and with horrifying ease, the door opens.

Nico peers into the room in spite of himself—and his heart sinks.

Jace is gone.

*

Jason goes for a run.

They watch three episodes of Stranger Things beneath the fuzzy black blanket—with Thalia’s ankle slowly resting in his lap, and Jason’s thoughts of going back to his universe in the far corner of his mind. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and watched a show with anyone—let alone his sister. Camp Halfblood forbade electronics. New Rome had a protective boundary around it and Terminus—but they didn’t exactly have room for a TV in the barracks. Jason didn’t spend enough time in his praetorhouse to really watch shows. It was lonely.

A cozy apartment with his sister in the via principalis is the opposite of lonely. Thalia starts nodding off at the beginning of episode four—with the day’s events having finally gotten to her. Jason had jostled her awake—and through a loud yawn, she suggested that they both get ready for bed.

And Jason tried. He didn’t use the other Jason’s toothbrush—that felt too weird. He took his shirt off to go to bed and was stricken at the smooth lines of his body. His eyes fell to his chest, where he expected to see a scar for Caligula’s spear. To see two scars. His eyes fell to his stomach, where he expected to see one of two wounds from when he was pierced by an imperial gold sword at the height of Gaea’s war.

But nothing.

Jason’s arms should’ve been riddled with welts and small lines from arrows. His body should remember the war wounds acquired from his twelve years of service, which overshadowed Thalia’s own ten.

“All of those years and they never gave you a ceremony for your retirement, huh?” Thalia had asked him between episodes.

Jason had thumbed his tattoo. No matter how many years that’ve passed, he could remember the _burn_ that came with earning each stripe. “Leo fired ballistae at New Rome the last time I was there. There wasn’t exactly time for that.”

She’d remarked that this world’s Leo basically did the same—and they came up with the same conclusion: it was weird.

But it bothered Jason now, inspecting his own body for the first time in the bathroom mirror. No scars to accessorize his twelve years of service. Just the one on his lip—the one he received when he was still Jason Grace first, and Juno hadn’t come to claim his life yet.

Not one scar from his trysts. No proof of anything he’s accomplished in his twelve years in the Legion and then some. They didn’t exist here. Jason’s status as Jupiter’s son didn’t exist here. He wasn’t Juno’s champion.

Here, he was Jace, son of Hades. He shared an apartment with his big sister, was together with the boy that Jason was starting to like and…happy.

Jason laid in Jace’s bed, and his body tingled. He tried to shut his eyes—tried to go to sleep—but he couldn’t. After a day of nothing, he was restless.

He’s afraid of what will happen, if he wakes up.

So he goes for a run.

Jason is careful when he sneaks out. He finds Jace’s tennis shoes at the front of the closet—worn down and perfectly molded to his own feet.

Running is natural. It’s one of the first things Lupa drilled in his head as a child. It’s easier to do than wielding any weapon—and it’s also one of the hardest decisions to make on the battlefield, whether to flee from an enemy or protect the pack.

He skitters down the familiar pathways of New Rome, absorbing everything that’s a little different and everything that’s still very much the same. Slightly off-colored cobblestones. Round porticos, instead of straight lines. Jason tries to clear his head while his mind is busy—and his thoughts just fall on the fact that he’s back in New Rome. Back in the place that raised him for twelve years in an insufferable cage before he left.

And…admitting it was an _insufferable cage_ is a blow to his own heart. He takes a while to wrap his mind around it.

Camp Halfblood was supposed to be better.

But he didn’t stay in Camp Halfblood, either.

He didn’t really have a say in the matter. Chiron insisted Piper and he go to school.

And the moment _that_ plays through his head, Jason grimaces. Praetor Nico’s words echo in his head. Jason didn’t have a choice.

Did he… _ever_ have a choice? Did he ever give himself one?

Jason steadies his pace as he rounds back to the via principalis. He wipes the sweat off his brow, heaving, and feels a numbness in his chest. His hand flies to his heart—searching…for something. Searching for that piercing that made him Swiss cheese and punctuated the finality of his life.

He's not sure if it’s frustration when he doesn’t find it. Or if it’s relief.

“Are you having nightmares?”

“Whoa—” Jason stumbles backwards. He almost falls into a puddle—and as he raises his gaze, he’s met with a pair of azure eyes. If Jason’s heart wasn’t pounding from the run, it’s sprinting now. “Nico.”

Praetor Nico stares back at him, dressed in pajama bottoms and a hoodie far too big for him in the cold weather. The rain had long diminished earlier in the night—and Jason can only wonder if it took Nico’s bad mood with it. They hadn’t said much at the sushi restaurant. Beth departed after giving Jason a gratifying hug and joined their table. Reyna and Percy seemed to understand that Jason took precedent for Thalia tonight.

Which—never happens. Jason doesn’t take precedent for _most_ people.

He’s busy staring at a boy who yelled at him earlier for not telling anyone about his decision to die. Praetor Nico’s hair isn’t rumpled—not in the way that Jason has grown used to seeing on his own Nico. Part of him wonders if this son of Jupiter has even gone to bed yet.

Jason tries his luck. “Why are you awake?”

He’s not sure what he expects to see—maybe a few more lines beneath Praetor Nico’s eyes from worry. Maybe a frown or a scowl, considering the way they left things. Praetor Nico shrugs instead. “Couldn’t sleep. Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jason smiles tiredly—and he notices Praetor Nico examining him.

“You’re wearing his clothes,” he says quietly. “I got him that shirt.”

Oh. Jason’s gaze falls down to the sweaty t-shirt—something he’d absentmindedly grabbed before the need to clear his head struck too hard. Praetor Nico’s words echo in his mind again, and his cheeks tingle. “I, um. I didn’t know. I could take it off.”

As he looks back up, Praetor Nico’s arched eyebrow meets him, his lips creased into a straight line. He extends a hand, and Jason catches a glance at the beads dangling from Nico’s wrist. Multiple colors, with several different patterns that outshine the only one Jason ever earned.

Jason grabs onto it when he knows he’s stared too long. Nico pulls him up to his feet—and they stand parallel to each other. This Nico has a fuller face, Jason thinks. His frame is still narrow, hair still long—and he stares onward at Jason—guarded. Jason hasn’t seen that in a long time—not since Split.

Then, Praetor Nico peels his gaze away, inspecting the rest of him. “I thought Thalia was taking care of you.”

Jason lowers his head slightly and nods. “She went to bed. I—”

“You were restless,” Praetor Nico surmises. He tucks his hands in his black hoodie—something that pools past his hips. “She’s worried about you, you know. I hope you plan on getting back to her before the night’s over.”

“I do.” It shouldn’t mess with his mind much—but being able to _come back to Thalia_ makes Jason feel full. Jason looks at this Nico again—the one who was apparently raised by his big sister, and Roman Percy—and Reyna, too, from the looks of it. This Nico looks…centered, somehow. This one never saw Tartarus. When Bianca died, this Nico had a support system.

And, Jason thinks hazily, this Nico had him. A Jason.

He’s staring too long. Jason knows he is—at that soft black hair and warm complexion. It’s reminiscent of the ten-year-old boy Jason saw in Nico’s memories. That smile of a sweet boy in the principia was an echo of the one that Jason saw in Split. And still, this Nico holds the same little mannerisms and little ticks that Jason had grown fond of—like the way Nico’s eyebrow would twitch ever so slightly before he smiled, or how he’d push his hair out of his face when deep in thought.

Then, this Nico’s eyebrows furrow together, and he stares at Jason warily. “What are you looking at?”

“Um,” Jason starts. “Nothing.”

This Nico looks unconvinced. He backs away slowly, inching towards the praetorhouse behind him. “Do you want to come in?”

Praetor Nico wordlessly starts making tea. Jason’s reminded of Thalia defaulting to the pantry and making hot cocoa. Jason feels ruder staring this time. He notices the same thick blanket over Praetor Nico’s couch. There’s a picture of Thalia, Reyna, Percy, and Nico sticking on the refrigerator. The kitchen is fully stocked—filled with pots and pants and a fancy knife set that catches Jason’s interest.

And again, Praetor Nico turns around and catches him staring. He sets the tea kettle on the stove—then props himself on the kitchen counter. “How are you doing?”

Jason stares back at him, flabbergasted. “I—how are you? The last we talked, I upset you.”

He’s played this game before aboard the Argo II. Flying towards the mast to check up on Nico when the other demigod didn’t want company. Playing the waiting game, promising to be there for Nico when he needed a friend. And more of a promise to himself: to catch Nico when Nico fell, when there were so few people who noticed when the son of Hades stumbled.

But this Nico stares at him, blue eyes almost piercing and lips twisted into an unfamiliar irate frown. He curls a hand to his own chest.

“You,” Praetor Nico starts, “described one of the most gruesome deaths I’ve heard in a long time and expect me to believe that you’re okay?”

Jason stares at him in confusion. He takes a seat in the stool across from the other demigod, and his palm is instinctively at his chest. “I’m…already dead. My Nico used to say something about that. The dead are at peace—”

“—but the living still suffer,” Praetor Nico finishes for him—which makes Jason stare. “A very _Hades_ thought of you.”

The tea kettle whistles, and Praetor Nico gracefully lands on his feet. Jason takes in more of the praetorhouse. Another photo sits beside the one of Nico and his caretakers—this world’s Jason and Nico, barefoot as they walked hand-in-hand across a pier with Reyna and Thalia in the background. Jason’s heart flutters at the thought of it.

“So how are you handling it?” Praetor Nico asks quietly, once more pressing on the subject. He slides a warm mug of tea across the counter. “People don’t usually get the opportunity to ask the _dead_ how they’re doing.”

“I.” The steam flutters into Jason’s eyes, and he blinks. His shoulders falter slightly, and he takes in the scent of the brew. Chamomile. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”

For all of the prodding Praetor Nico has done, he finally looks quenched with the answer that Jason is willing to give him. He raises his gaze. “Tell me about it.”

The thought comes slowly—but still more quickly than Jason was able with Thalia. Maybe because he saw her so infrequently in his own world—or because no matter what universe, he still seeks Nico’s comfort.

“I,” Jason starts slowly, “never thought there was more for me than being a son of Jupiter. Or Juno’s champion. Every time I tried to escape that, the Fates just—they sent me back like a boomerang. I ended up becoming a praetor anyway. I ended up on another quest—and even when I thought I found peace at Camp Halfblood, I—”

Jason pauses.

“—I wasn’t allowed to stay,” he says. Jason lets out a quiet, sad chuckle and tests the warmth of his tea. “Now I’m here, where my dad’s title doesn’t matter. Where I’m not Juno’s appeasement, or whatever. I’m just—I’m me. And I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You did that here, too.”

He cocks his head back to Praetor Nico, who’s back to sitting on the kitchen counter like a bird in a nest. Praetor Nico’s gaze is steady—sipping every word from Jason’s mouth like everyone else.

And, Praetor Nico wrinkles his nose. He shakes his head with a frustration unknown to Jason. There’s a blaze in his eyes. “That stupid Greek prophecy about slaying Kronos. Chiron and the rest of Camp Halfblood tied you to that fate the moment Alecto handed you off. They wanted to turn you into the perfect hero. They made you _think_ there was nothing more for you than being a hero and saving the world. You didn’t want to be a hero. You didn’t want to be a son of Hades, either.”

Jason could laugh. Once upon a time, he envied Nico’s freedom. There was a withering frustration in Nico’s heart that made it hard for him to trust anyone at either camp—but all he wanted was a home. Jason could never find the door to leave. He felt like he wasn’t allowed to search for it—and after Juno’s swap, Jason’s learned he was never going to find a place to stay.

He stares at Praetor Nico now, who even moreso has the favor of Juno. Jason only wonders if this Nico is enveloped in Jupiter’s realm the way his Nico wears skeleton shirts and communes with the dead. He’s silent for a while—but he knows that Praetor Nico is drinking in his reaction. They all have.

“Do you like being praetor?” Jason asks quietly.

“I hate it.”

Jason almost chokes on his tea—which Praetor Nico also notices. He looks like he’s biting back a laugh.

“I never wanted to _be_ praetor,” Praetor Nico explains, and he pulls up his sleeve, revealing five stripes in dedication to the Legion.

The eagle is stark against the inside of his arm, with a scar that runs across its wings. A remnant of an experience from before--and something Jason lacks. Scars, to show his time in the legion. His memories.

Nico stares up to Jason, gaze glinting with a mild exasperation so reminiscent to Jason’s own Nico. “When I got out of the casino, everything was _confusing_ and _overwhelming._ I was getting over the fact that I would never see Bianca again—and then suddenly, I found out that I was a demigod, too. And that Jupiter was my dad. I never understood why people would look to a ten-year-old kid for answers to the universe.”

Jason bites back the urge to smile. “To be fair, you did mention parallel universes today.”

Praetor Nico looks back at him, wry. And slowly, he pulls his sleeve back down, the glass beads clattering against his wrist. “They were already asking me to become a praetor six months into enlisting. I was _eleven._ ”

Jason knows that feeling all too well.

“Percy and Thalia made sure I didn’t have to deal with that. Not on top of everything else.” Nico fiddles with the beads, instinctive in a way that Jason can only describe as his own Nico fumbling with his skull ring. “New Rome already had two great leaders. Reyna and Thalia. And Percy, too—for all of the scrutiny he was given for being a son of Neptune, the Fifth Cohort would be nowhere without him. They all wanted me to have some semblance of a childhood since I was ripped away from the one that I had. Since Jupiter…”

He makes a face, his eyes flickering dangerously—but then it subsides. Evidently, he isn’t planning on finishing that thought.

“So what changed?” Jason asks.

“I don’t do it for Jupiter. I never have. I do it for them.” Praetor Nico shrugs. “For family.”

There’s a warmth in Jason’s chest as he listens to that. The corner of his lip twitches. “I’m glad you have them, Nico.”

“You told me that once.” Praetor Nico’s gaze falls back to him, observant. There’s more worry in his eyes. “I… _wish_ you had that, Jason. It sounds like you need it.”

That makes Jason’s stomach twist. “I had friends. Piper and Leo. And I had Annabeth, here.”

“Jace shut Annabeth out to protect her,” Praetor Nico points out. His eyes grow somber again. “You shut Piper out to protect her. And Leo…”

Something heavy drops in Jason’s stomach. “I thought he was dead. I never got to see him again before I died. I…I _hope_ he’s doing okay.”

“Ah,” is all Praetor Nico has to offer.

“Sounds like you know me pretty well,” Jason remarks softly. The smile is faint against his lips, his hand brushing against his chest again. His heart. “I’m…sorry, for worrying you.”

Praetor Nico’s eyes follow him—every gesture. Jason doesn’t blame him—he’s done the same since waking up in this universe, trying to dissect every little tick and nuance of his friends here. His family.

“I know Jace really well.” Praetor Nico’s voice is soft. His hand brushes against the bracelet resting against his wrist. “I’m always going to worry about him.”

Jason would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. His gaze flies back to Praetor Nico, his eyebrows knitting together. “I promise I’ll get him back to you.”

There’s a way that Praetor Nico’s eyes shift—flickering with a quiet reluctance. His eyebrows furrow quietly into one another. There’s a miserable quality to his demeanor, laced with acceptance. “He’ll come back when it’s time. He has a home. I—we have to believe that he’s safe. That he’s not doing anything stupid.”

The last part of his sentence sounds pointed—and his gaze rises carefully to meet Jason’s.

Jason’s face grows hot. “Does he make a habit out of it?”

“You tell me,” Praetor Nico says wryly. He pushes his mug aside, then he’s thoughtful again. “I’m proud of him. He worked hard to get to this point—of people making a habit of making sure he was okay. But also letting him know he could use his voice, too. That he could have _wants_ and _needs_ that didn’t center around preparing for a prophecy and getting ready for the next big fight.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?” Jason asks—and he’s surprised at the words flying out of his mouth. His cheeks grow hot again, his chest aching with the memory of Caligula’s spear piercing him.

Praetor Nico stares back at him peculiarly, head tilted. “I bet you do. It’s just been a long time since you’ve gotten to say it out loud. If you’ve ever.”

Jason stares back, glassy-eyed—but the words hide in the back of his throat. He swallows hard, feeling the same familiar ache in his chest, and takes a cool sip of his tea. Slowly, he finds some semblance of words. “For what it’s worth—I—I thought about telling you.”

Praetor Nico scrutinizes him, skeptical. “You _thought_ about it.”

“Every day. But I…I could never get the words out.” Jason could never watch Will and Nico for too long without that pang of envy needling in his chest. “And then communications went down for a while, so I _couldn’t_ tell you. I didn’t want you to worry. I—”

Jason’s hand curls into a fist over his mug, and he stares hard at the loose tea leaves at the bottom of his cup.

“You were finally getting your life on track. You made peace with Bianca’s death, and you have Hazel. You have a boyfriend.” Jason’s voice comes out strained—and he hopes that Praetor Nico doesn’t notice. “It would _kill_ me if I had to watch you die. You worked so hard to get there.”

Praetor Nico is quiet. The silence is thick—and Jason’s not quite sure what to expect. “Haven’t you, too, Jason?”

Jason looks back up, his eyebrows furrowed together, and his grip loosens.

“I.” His life is disposable. He’s Roman. “I don’t know.”

He’s Greek, too. And he’s a _Grace_ too, with a big sister who loves him dearly in this universe. A sister who doesn’t dismiss the thought of Beryl Grace altogether when amnesiac Jason, after fifteen years, finally got answers to questions he had long before his memories were stolen from him.

Praetor Nico looks like he wants to say something—but he refrains. His lips twitch, etching towards a frown, but he stands to his feet instead, putting an empty mug in the sink. Again, he falls silent, pondering quietly and so similarly to Jason’s own Nico. “We’ll get you home, Jason. If that’s what you really want.”

Jason doesn’t think he’d really call the _afterlife_ home. But—he’s starting to wonder if he had one of those back when he was alive, too.

Praetor Nico holds out his beaded hand expectantly, ready to gather the mug between Jason’s fingers. As Jason parts with his tea, their hands brush together ever so slightly—and he pauses. He takes in the sight of Praetor Nico, dressed so casually compared to Legion protocol. This Nico, who was a son of Jupiter and was free to have a childhood after the misfortune of being stolen away from the 1940s—and found comfort and a support system that Jason’s own Nico is finally getting.

Being a son of Jupiter _caged_ Jason. This Nico di Angelo, son of Jupiter found a new purpose within the title.

Being a son of Hades _shackled_ Jace. Jason’s Nico welcomed his lineage when everything and everyone else turned him away. Jason’s Nico found solace. And—quite literally Solace, in Will.

So was it just Jason? Was it always going to be him? _Did_ it always have to be him?

He snaps out of his thoughts as he notices Praetor Nico’s gaze avert—a dust of pink settling against his cheekbones. Praetor Nico plucks the mug out of his hands and rinses it out slowly in the sink.

“How are you holding up?” Jason whispers, and the concern flashes across his face.

Praetor Nico’s eyes squeeze shut, his cheeks flushing a little darker—then he turns the sink off. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re my boyfriend.”

Immediately, red bursts across Jason’s face. His ears burn. “What?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Praetor Nico repeats, and the hue of his face mirrors Jason’s own. He glares at nothing in particular. “You’re… _so_ much like Jace in every sense except that one. You’re not him. You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t expect you to act like him. Not like that.”

Honestly, Jason is at a loss of words.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you we were dating,” Praetor Nico grumbles, and he rolls his eyes with a mild ire. “Then I come to find out Percy blabbed about it anyway.”

He makes a face—which Jason can only describe as a disdainful little brother. Jason could probably sit on that one for a couple of hours, considering how his own Percy and Nico are in comparison.

“I’m,” Praetor Nico mutters, and his face blisters with heat now, “not going to dump one more expectation on you, Jason. You’re already shouldering too much.”

Oh. This time, as Jason’s face glows, it’s an easy flourish. His chest tingles, light. “This…is how I always act, Nico.”

Praetor Nico’s face finds a way to get darker—and it just makes Jason miss his own Nico more. “Oh.”

“I care about you,” Jason continues, and a narrow wrinkle appears between his brow. The back of his throat is in knots…and slowly, he lets himself unfurl them. “I…think I’m _always_ going to care about you Nico. More than anyone else.”

Maybe even more than his own Thalia. Because at least Nico _wanted_ his company. The lump unfurls in his chest—and it feels lighter, for admitting that.

The storm clouds outside swell ever-so slightly—but Praetor Nico is calm. “Would the other me want you to die?”

No. “I care too much to put you through what Caligula put me through,” Jason says. “I just—I want you to be happy, Nico.”

Even if it’s not with him.

Praetor Nico considers his words, and stares at the dripping faucet. He reaches over and places a hand carefully on Jason’s, the beads shining against his wrist. “Care about your own happiness first, Jason. Don’t worry about mine.”

He tilts his head once more, evidently considering something else.

“Don’t tie your happiness to mine, or anyone else’s,” he adds. “That’s all I want for you.”

Jason fidgets in his seat. He peers up at Praetor Nico—and there’s a steadiness to his gaze that he often found in his own Nico.

It _hits_ him, how he’s never going to see it again. He won’t see his own Nico again.

This Nico pushes the hair out of his face, fingers curling in his own black locks, before he curls his arms over his chest. His gaze is soft and somber—so much like the son of Hades that Jason knew. And Jason’s heart yearns.

“If you’re having nightmares,” Praetor Nico whispers quietly, “or if you’re having trouble sleeping, then my couch is open.”

Jason blinks. “I thought you said I should get back to Thalia.”

Praetor Nico shrugs, and Jason is left to consider the weight of his words.

“Jace runs because of nightmares,” Jason guesses. He watches as Praetor Nico’s eyebrows furrow, his lips curling with worry. “You were worried that… _I_ would have nightmares. You stayed up for me.”

He’s not sure what to expect—maybe for Praetor Nico to get flustered again or shirk away from his guess—but this son of Jupiter looks him in the eye. “Near-death experiences can be traumatizing, Jason.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t just near-death,” Jason says, and his eyebrows knit together. “I died.”

This time, Praetor Nico glares at him, a frown deep inset in his lips. “It looks like someone graced you with a perfectly good body.”

“Perfect?” Jason echoes—and Praetor Nico blushes. Jason blushes too, his hand brushing up against his collarbone. “No—I’m…I think I’ll go back to Thalia tonight. I don’t want her to worry.”

Praetor Nico looks like he wants to protest—but he nods in agreement. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Despite their conversation about boyfriends, Jason’s heart flutters. His lips curl with familiarity—in a way they haven’t in a long time. Not since he turned his back on Camp Halfblood and moved to Pasadena. “Yeah, Nico.”

Before he leaves entirely, Praetor Nico grabs him by the arm. The touch startles him—so very warm compared to his own Nico’s cold fingers.

“If—” Praetor Nico halts. “When you want to talk about it, I’m here. Thalia’s here, too.”

There’s a set of tennis shoes sitting beneath Praetor Nico’s porch. The shoes are far too big for Nico’s feet—but they’re perfect for Jason’s. Jace’s. Jason only catches a brief glance at them. He has to wonder how often Jace ran. How often he ran _here._

“And Annabeth,” Jason adds, reminded of his conversation with the daughter of Athena earlier this evening.

The corner of Praetor Nico’s lips curl—and for the first time, Jason sees something akin to the smile that greeted him in the principia. “And Beth.”

With one final goodbye, Jason makes his short sprint back to Thalia’s apartment.

He looks over his shoulder at Praetor Nico’s house—more than once.

And still, as he climbs the steps of the apartment complex, he struggles to muster the will to leave that smile behind. Nico’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sibling moments for this chapter! Hopefully you guys enjoy hearing from the sisters, and we'll find out where Jace ended up in the next chapter! 8) Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the update!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s okay,” Jace says again, and Nico flushes. He falls silent on their walk, evidently reluctant. “I was getting worried.”
> 
> Nico frowns. “About what?”
> 
> “That you and I weren’t close in this world.”
> 
> Nico cocks his head back to Jace. Sadness glimmers in Jace’s eyes. Blond eyebrows are furrowed together, and those pale lips are curled into a tentative smile.
> 
> “How close are we?” Nico asks quietly.

Nico checks every bedroom in the Big House. He unlocks every door, shadowtravels into every guest bedroom—then bursts through the front entrance back onto campgrounds. His heart bristles in his chest—the dread so palpable that he can’t get himself to focus. Nico’s pulse races as his head cocks in every which direction trying to find Jace’s soul.

Maybe Jace figured it out. Maybe Jace figured out why he couldn’t shadowtravel.

Maybe Jace left.

The last possibility just _hurts_ in Nico’s heart, and his chest burns at the idea. Nico runs through the length of Camp Halfblood—and then he freezes, when he finally feels it.

The light is on in the Zeus’s Cabin—for the first time in over a year. Nico stands outside of Cabin One, hands shaking at his sides and his heart rattling in his ears. He’s breathless—whether from running or the onslaught panic, he can’t tell. Slowly, he staggers onto the front porch of Cabin One.

Nothing’s changed—except for the stale air of living quarters that hasn’t been used in ages. Not since _last_ winter break, when Jason was still alive. The marble columns are blindingly white and pristine. Hippie Zeus casts a glance downward from his statue, disinterest so accurately sculpted into his face. The only sounds to be heard are from the tiny clouds in the mosaic pattern against the domed ceiling. Cabin One has always been a mausoleum first and a home for Jason second.

Jace stands at the alcove, far away from Hippie Zeus.

Relief pools through Nico like a flood—intense and all consuming—as he tries to find his breath again.

“Nico.” Jace looks up, surprised. He looks across the length of the stupid cabin, his eyebrows knitting together. Gone is the leather jacket from his person—showing only the white shirt that blends with his pale skin, and his black joggers.

“You—” Nico starts, and his hand is trembling at the doorknob. It’s hard for him to breath. “You weren’t in the Big House.”

Confusion shows in Jace’s face. “You came looking for me?”

A _duh_ rests at Nico’s tongue, but refuses to flow. The sight of Jason in this cabin is one that Nico hasn’t seen in a long time—but seeing Jace now—pale and dressed in white, just makes Nico’s throat constrict. And again, he repeats—“You weren’t there.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jace sets a photograph down and descends from the alcove. “I went for a run and ended up here.”

He stands only feet away, and Nico sees it now—a healthy coat of sweat over Jace’s brow and the sweat lines over his t-shirt. Pale blond eyebrows furrow together, and those scarred lips contort with worry that’s just _too_ familiar.

“Are you okay?” Jace asks—because Nico is quiet for too long. He stares, for too long.

“I—” And Nico’s mind is still screaming. His hands are still shaking. He wipes sweaty palms against his jeans, unable to peel his sight away from this Jason. His throat tightens. Hard. The words are hard to parse through in his mind. Just… _hard._ “No.”

Jace has a hand raised in the air, still attentive. He _has_ been, since arriving. Nico doesn’t think Jace’s gaze has wavered on him once—not with Percy and Annabeth in the room, not with Hazel or Frank or Apollo—and not even with Piper and Leo.

“No,” Nico repeats again, and his eyes sting. “You—you were gone. You left—but…but the last time you did that, you died.”

His voice comes in a measly squeak. Nico doesn’t think he can keep his voice steady. His breathing feels short, and a thousand daggers are twisting in his stomach. Nico’s eyes burn. They’re _searing._

“You left,” Nico murmurs incoherently, and the shaking just radiates through the rest of him. “You—you left, and then you died, and I—I felt you die, and I couldn’t do anything about it, and now you’re here, and…you left again, and you could’ve…”

The words wither in his throat.

“You left,” Nico finishes. “You left and you died.” He can’t sort the words out in his mind. For all that he tried to draw the line in the sand—of who _Jace_ is and who Jason _was_ , it’s a jumbled mess now. Everything he’s done in the last year—to get better, to not let this turn into a _Bianca_ situation again—just churns in his head and turns his stomach into knots. Nico wants to _puke_.

Jason left. Jason left and he died. Jason’s dead. Nico won’t ever see Jason again. Jason won’t ever be _alive_ again because Jason doesn’t _want_ to be alive. Jason is gone.

“Nico.” Jace’s voice is soft. He reaches out, like he did for Frank in the Big House. Stops, with the hesitation in his eyes because of what Nico said this morning. Because of what _happened_ this evening.

Nico buries his face into Jace’s chest with a loud, humiliating sob.

It comes in shuddering waves, his arms wrapped so tightly around Jace that he doesn’t want to let go. He never _wanted_ to let go of Jason—Nico never wants to forget the first person to trust him. The first person to _beg_ for his trust and friendship. The tears spill because Apollo and Leo are right—he doesn’t want to let Jace go either.

He doesn’t want to lose Jason _again._

“I never got to say goodbye,” Nico whispers miserably. The tears leak from the edges of his eyes and he cries harder.

“Hey,” Jace murmurs—and it’s gratifying as he hugs back. Nico’s chest and heart and entire body ache because Jace’s arms around him are painfully familiar. “Hey, I’m here.”

Jace is here. He isn’t Jason—but he’s close. He’s sweet and kind—despite all of the fame and glory that came with being a son of Jupiter—like Jason. Despite the line that Nico promising he wouldn’t _feel_ this way again, about Jason being gone. Jace is a steady presence, with his heartbeat firm against Nico’s ear. Something Nico hasn’t been able to hear in a long, long time.

When he can finally breathe again, Nico realizes they’re swaying. His face is warm, buried against Jace’s chest, and his lungs are finally recovering. A humiliating flush burns in his cheeks.

“Mmsorry,” Nico mutters, his voice numb. He moves, to separate them. “I shouldn’t—I didn’t—”

Jace gives him a firm squeeze. “It’s _okay_ , Nico.”

It’s _okay._ Not just, it’s _fine._ Jace _wants_ him close, until Nico can breathe again.

“Feel better?” Jace whispers, when Nico’s loud sobs diminish into quiet whimpers.

Nico sucks in a raspy breath, unable to look up into Jace’s eyes, but his body folds under Jace’s grip. And slowly, he nods. When he can steady himself on his own, Nico puts space between them. His body feels cold without Jace’s touch.

And they’re quiet. Instead of Nico’s sobs reverberating off the walls, it’s the stupid mosaic thunderstorm of this stupid cabin again. Jace’s fingers are gentle against Nico’s wrist this time—a placid graze in case Nico needs it. Nico doesn’t think he’s ever missed someone’s pulse so much.

It _scares_ him how much he misses it. When Jace pulls his hand away, Nico has to fight back the urge to grab it.

“How about a walk?” Jace suggests gently. He lowers himself slightly, to stay in Nico’s line of vision. To reassure Nico that he’s there.

They walk about the dirt trails of Camp Halfblood. Nico’s eyes are to the ground, tired and groggy from all of the tears. Jace hangs close to him, walking in tandem with Nico’s steps instead of behind him. Each step is painful and cold, and Nico is hollow. 

“You said you were curious about the cabin?” Nico whispers hoarsely.

Jace considers his words and nods. There’s a soft chuckle at his lips. “It’s…strange how different this Camp Halfblood is. And what’s different about it. I didn’t really get a chance to look earlier.”

Nico feels a pang of guilt in his chest. “I guess we’ve kept you holed up in the Big House. And things kind of…” Spiraled.

“Took a turn for the worst,” Jace agrees quietly—and Nico suddenly feels bad for decorating his shirt with yet another layer of grief-stricken tears. They’d prolonged trying to send him back in hopes to console Piper—and even longer, after Nico ran and hid.

At that thought, Nico’s cheeks burn. He hangs his head with shame. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jace says again, and Nico flushes. He falls silent on their walk, evidently reluctant. “I was getting worried.”

Nico frowns. “About what?”

“That you and I weren’t close in this world.”

Nico cocks his head back to Jace. Sadness glimmers in Jace’s eyes. Blond eyebrows are furrowed together, and those pale lips are curled into a tentative smile.

“How close are we?” Nico asks quietly.

For some reason, Jace hesitates. Nico is almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Close,” Jace says finally.  
  


Somehow, that makes the weight in Nico’s heart lighter. Before he can stop himself, he finds himself asking, “I…hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind.”

Jace halts in his stride. Nico can feel Jace’s eyes on him—the very thought of it causes his cheeks to redden. But his chest is tight—it has been, since Jace mentioned the fact earlier. Jace’s silence is so tangible that Nico’s afraid that the other demigod has left.

“He doesn’t,” Jace says finally—though Nico can’t help but pick up on the discomfort in the other demigod’s voice. 

Nico’s gut wrenches. “If…I’m overstepping my bounds with your relationship—”

“You’re not,” Jace cuts him off—but regardless, he sounds uncomfortable. “You and I are in a good place in my world, Nico. It—it took a long time for us to get there, but we did. I’m glad where we ended up. You’re important to me.”

Nico’s eyes glitter with a new onslaught of tears. “Does your boyfriend treat you well?”

He can _feel_ Jace’s smile. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”

The envy just _twists_ in Nico’s heart. He swallows hard, and slowly picks up on their trail again. “Good. You…you deserve that after Piper.”

“I’ve, um. I’ve never dated Piper,” Jace says, and he matches Nico’s pace. “Does Will treat you well?”

Gods. The envy is painful in Nico’s chest. Too painful to really care about more questions about Will. “He and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Apollo made it sound like the two of you would be getting back together.”

“We won’t.” Nico smiles grimly, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to do that to him again.”

He keeps walking—but Jace doesn’t. “Do what to him?”

Nico stalls, his feet against the grass, and his hands shake. The words are at the tip of his tongue, but…he’s reluctant. Hazel’s reminder rings in his head, and his nerves try to get the better of him. Much like his heart, he tries to stifle them.

“I’m not going to go back into Tartarus,” Nico whispers quietly, “and hope I come out with another boy again.”

The temperature of the air changes. Jace is silent, but Nico can feel the shock as it forms across the other son of Hades’s face. “What?”

Saying the words out loud make it even harder to look Jace in the eye. Not that it was easy before. Nico wordlessly gestures to a bench nearby and for Jace to follow in suit. Slowly, Jace settles beside him—and again, his eyes are glued to Nico.

“You died earlier this year,” Nico says quietly. “Back in February. I felt it. I…was almost driven _mad_ because of it.”

His mind flashes back to the nightmares in cold February nights. He remembers how miserable he was on Valentine’s Day—Cupid’s Day—because of what it represented. Nico’s felt death before. He learned early about the cold chill that would spike in his chest when he felt someone die.

Jason’s death was a blizzard.

“I was worried I _did_ go mad. I started hearing voices in Tartarus. I—I was terrified at the thought that you’d ended up there, instead of Elysium. Where you deserve.” Nico curls his fingers in the hole of his jeans. “It turned out to be Bob.”

“Bob?”

“Iapetus,” Nico corrects himself, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Will and I were supposed to go down there together. He—he backed out at the last moment. The child of the Sun God—that’s a lot for him. But I told him I was going to go anyway. And the entire time I was there, I thought I saw you. A version of you. Him. My Jason.”

Jace blinks, his eyebrows furrow together as though he’s come to a realization.

“I saved Bob,” Nico continues, and then he swallows hard. “Hazel saved me. But I guess—I was out for a while.”

“You saw a ghost of Jason,” Jace murmurs. “He haunted you.”

“Not the real him.” Nico smiles miserably. “But—yeah. Hazel gets worried. I have to tell her when I’m _here_ …and I’m not just—not just—”

“Seeing a ghost,” Jace finishes for him. “Of Jason.”

“Jason’s long gone,” Nico says, and his heart clenches. “I don’t know where his spirit ended up—but I spent longer in Tartarus than I should have trying to find him.” He takes in a shallow breath. “Longer than probably healthy for someone who’s in a relationship with someone else.”

He doesn’t like the way Jace is staring at him—eyes wide and mouth parted. It’s far too similar to the way Hazel did, when she had to deal with his incoherent mumblings. When she looked at him in the last few months and worried, again. “Nico—”

“I don’t need to be in a relationship right now,” Nico finishes quietly. “I’m not putting anyone else through that. Through me.”

Nico can’t muster up the courage to look at Jace. He can feel the same judgment—same concern that Hazel gave him when he woke up in Camp Halfblood’s infirmary, muttering about Jason’s ghost. _Seeing_ Jason’s ghost, in the corner of rooms and just _dreaming_ about Jason. About seeing Jason’s back turned away from him. Leaving Nico again.

“I thought it’d be easier going in the second time,” Nico admits softly, and his heart hurts so much that he curls a fist over it. He laughs at himself—at how pathetic and humiliating it all was. “But—it just kept getting worse. Tartarus just found something new to torture me with. The longer I looked for you, the longer it felt. I’d still be down there if Hazel hadn’t sensed me.”

“Sensed you what?” Jace’s voice is tense.

“What do you think?” Nico asks, and he smiles bitterly as he hangs his head low. He feels, it though—his own pulse against his palm. For the longest time, he couldn’t feel at all. Anything.

“Nico.” Jace grabs his hand, fingers against the vein of Nico’s wrist. It’s firm and tight, compared to the gentle touch from earlier. “Don’t ever do that for me again. I mean it.”

There’s a shame that washes over Nico as he hears it in that voice. In _Jason’s_ voice.

“I mean it,” Jace says with more ferocity—and yet still soft. He slinks off the bench, onto his knees—and suddenly, all Nico sees is the fear and anxiousness in Jace’s eyes. His hands are shaking over Nico’s own hand. His voice trembles. “Not for me. Don’t go back to Tartarus, I can’t—I can’t bear the thought of you down there.” His voice is tight.

“I know.” Nico pulls his gaze when it’s too much. The way Jace cares is just—too much. “Dad forbade it. It was supposed to be in and out—and—I’d heard your voice.”

He doesn’t think explaining it in detail makes Jace feel any better. But the longer he goes without talking—

“Nico,” Jace urges.

“I’m here.”

—the more Jace worries now.

Nico fiddles with his skull ring and resists the urge to lash out. To yell that Jason was _there_ and he _felt_ Jason, and that if _anyone_ cared, they’d let him go back. If _Will_ cared, he’d let Nico go back. Go back for a boy who Nico treasured more.

The truth was, Nico never considered _asking_ if Jason wanted to come back because he couldn’t even find Jason in the first place. He spent a whole summer in Tartarus after hearing an inkling of Jason’s voice—of seeing blond hair from the corner of his eye and honing into souls more instinctively than breathing in a desperate search.

“Not a lot of people know about it,” he whispers quietly, and he slowly shakes his head. “I was—I was supposed to be good. I wasn’t supposed to let it get as bad as Bianca.”

It got worse.

It's another _what-if_ that already had an answer. Jason left for Pasadena, left his life behind, and left the afterlife, too.

“What happened with Bianca?” Jace asks—and now, he sounds reluctant to ask more questions. Each word out of Nico’s mouth sounds more heinous than the last.

“Bad things,” is all Nico can offer. He squeezes his eyes shut and massage his temples.

“Where were Thalia and Percy?”

He opens his eyes and stares at Jace. The anger coils in his stomach—and he should know better than to let it stir. _Should._ “Thalia went on and joined the Huntresses. For _all_ the disdain she voiced against them—” Nico halts before he can work himself up too much. Simmers, before bringing himself down. “—she kept recruiting girls the moment she joined. More like Bianca. Percy—”

Nico thinks back to his conversation with Percy earlier. The fact that Percy _folded_ and was willing to come talk to him spoke miles on its own.

“—Percy tries a little more each time I see him,” Nico finishes. “I don’t expect much from him. I don’t _like_ asking much of him.”

Jace’s grip is tight over his hand. So tight, that Nico didn’t realize Jace’s fingers could grow whiter. His blond eyebrows knit together, and Jace’s expression dims. “You went through her death on your own?”

“Yeah.” Nico pushes the hair out of his face and tries hard not to glare at his feet. Jace gives him yet another firm squeeze over the hand, and Nico’s heart can’t help but ache again. “I’m better now. I didn’t—I won’t go back there. Hazel…she thought it’d be good, if I talked about this. If I—”

His voice stalls in his throat.

“If I finally closed the door on this. On you,” he finishes quietly. Nico doesn’t miss the way Jace’s grip loosens over his own hand. “On my Jason.”

“Oh,” is all the blond son of Hades can say. Jace falls silent, his hand departing from Nico’s grip. And again, Nico has to resist the urge to reach out for it. Slowly, Jace nods. “Yeah. I can see how that would be good for you.”

Nico shudders and miserably shuts his eyes.

“Sorry,” he breathes, and slowly he stands to his feet. “Sorry. I’ll get you back to your world.” His throat dries, and the terrible envy bubbles in his chest again. “To your boyfriend.”

He extends a hand as an olive branch. Slowly, Jace reaches for it—and he accepts.

“I.” Jace pauses—and as Nico reaches and tries to meet his gaze, he notices Jace’s own eyes staring off in the distance. “I appreciate it. Thanks, Nico.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, and his voice is quiet.

They keep walking with an air of silence between them. Nico is afraid to look up—afraid to see what could possibly be on Jace’s face after all of this. But slowly he catches a glance—and notices the grimness in Jace’s own expression. There isn’t anger. Just a quiet sadness that carries from his eyes to the rest of him.

Eventually they walk the length of camp, past Halfblood Hill and to the edge of the entrance. Nico’s gaze is at his feet, and Jace’s gaze seems fixated forward. Nico catches himself staring more than once—but this time, Jace doesn’t look back. 

Once they circle back, Nico can’t tell if he feels better or worse. Jace stands on the porch of the Big House, feet away from Nico and too far.

“Feel better?” Jace asks. Nico thinks Jace might be mad at him—but then notices the worry teeming in his eyes.

Nico tugs at the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t think I ever will. But. Thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah.” Jace’s voice is gentle. Almost heartbreaking. As he turns—

“Do you have everything you need in there?” Nico asks. “In the Big House, I mean? I know Cabin Thirteen is what you’re used to. There’s a bed there, if you want it. Or, Zeus’s Cabin—even if you’re not his son. It’s—It’s Jason’s cabin. You’re welcome to it.”

Jace peers back at him, flummoxed. His hand curls against a post, and—slowly, he crosses his arms. “No, I’m good, Nico.”

He moves to turn around again—but there’s hesitation in the gesture. Slowly, Jace turns around again to meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Do you need anything?” Jace asks.

Nico stares back, his hands curled into tense fists at his side. He takes in the sight of a troubled Jace at the edge of the porch, and his heart beats miserably in his chest. Slowly, Nico shakes his head. “No. I’m good. I hope you sleep better now.” 

Jace looks reluctant to leave, but—finally, he nods his head. “You too.”

The words are right behind Nico’s teeth—but he’s terrified to say them. He waits, watching as Jace shrinks back into the Big House. Until he’s _sure_ that Jace is there, in the guest bedroom.

And his heart aches.

It takes him a long time to leave. Nico turns his heels to walk towards the Hades Cabin—but his eyes remain on the Big House.

“I’m here,” he reminds himself.

*

The morning starts off strange. Light. Strange, because it’s light.

Jason wakes up before his alarm. Being back in New Rome seems to bring it out in him. He stares up at the ceiling as sunlight creeps through the blinds, and wakes to his hand to his own chest, fumbling to find Caligula’s wound. Wounds.

Praetor Nico’s words echo in his mind. _You have a perfectly good body right here._

Perfectly good. No signs of scarring, other than the one on his lip—the only thing he’s had longer than the tattoo on his arm. No wounds from Caligula. No stab wound by Michael Varus. _Born a Roman, die a Roman_ , he’d said.

Though, Jason was never fully Roman. He was never fully Greek, either—he was both.

He finds himself wondering if his friends took that into account when they buried him.

Jason traces his fingers over his chest and just— _expects_ it to hurt. _Expects_ for it to ache. He can _remember_ the spear piercing him, and the arrows skewering him. He remembers the sword puncturing through him, and how much it burned.

But it doesn’t now. Not unless he thinks about it really hard.

He’s still in bed when Thalia knocks on his door. As she peeks her head in, the amusement teeming in her dark eyes. It’s just… _light._

“Did I finally find a brother who sleeps in?” she teases. Lightly.

The tone of her voice makes Jason smile. He pushes off his bed, hand still on his chest and shakes his head. He yawns. “No…I. I had a hard time falling asleep last night.”

Thalia’s smile wanes.

“I went for a run,” Jason continues. “Nico and I made up last night.”

She stares at him curiously. “You didn’t stay over?”

“I didn’t want to worry you more than I already have.” Jason soaks in her expression as Thalia blinks. “What’s for breakfast?”

Thalia’s lips part into a giant grin.

She insists he dresses in Jace’s clothes—no matter how bizarre it is. Jason feels weird putting the pontifex robes back on. He feels weirder wearing more of Jace’s clothes—in the mix of black and white—but the faintest needling in the back of his mind reminds Jason he didn’t have many of his own. He wore a Legion shirt from the age of two all the way to the age of fifteen. Camp Halfblood made him switch out purple for orange—and Edgarton made him wear the school uniform.

Always a uniform.

In a way, he thinks Jace’s clothes are liberating. It’s just—“What’s with all it the athleisure wear?”

Thalia—in her black skinny jeans, smooth leather jacket, and death metal band t-shirt—laughs. “For maneuverability between shadowtraveling. And camouflage in the dark.”

Oh. “That’s really smart.”

“It’s either that,” Thalia adds—and she stands to the tip of her toes to ruffle his hair, “or how Bianca dresses you like some bad boy from an eighties movie. Apparently, you wore orange for ten years straight before you met her.”

Jason decides not to think just how similar Jace and he are.

They walk through New Rome—and he’s almost hit in the face with how excited he is.

“Fabiano’s Bakery.” A grin curls against Jason’s lips, excitement already thrumming through his veins. “Aw man—I haven’t had their brownies in _years._ Not since I left.”

He flashes a hopeful look in Thalia’s direction—and his heart blooms in the way she smiles at him.

“We can’t miss out on that,” she decides, and her voice just brims with warmth.

Jason orders two brownies and a milkshake. Thalia notices him eying a cookie and asks for Fabiano to wrap that up for him, too. Jason offers the baker a familiar thank you—and Fabiano just stares at him with confusion.

And slowly, he joins his sister for her morning routine—with six to-go coffees pocketed and two bags stuffed with pastries. They walk slow, enjoying each other’s company. As they pass Temple Hill, Jason catches something in the corner of his eye.

The Temple of Jupiter. His Father, the Best and the Greatest. With a blinding temple that could be seen from anywhere in Camp Jupiter or New Rome.

Jason supposes _that_ fact hasn’t changed between universes, either.

He’s staring too long—down the valley of Temple Hill where his father rests. Thalia has a hand over his shoulder immediately.

“Let’s get settled in for the morning and we can try the gods again,” she suggests. Her voice is reluctant. But, slowly, she adds, “we could try your dad today.”

Jason only shakes his head. His grip over the paper bag of pastries tightens. Jason has to remind himself to breathe. “He won’t answer.”

He never has.

Finally, they make it to the principia. Jason’s met with the same sight as before—Beth at her laptop near the coffee table. Roman Percy feeding a goldfish. Reyna, whispering quietly to Praetor Nico with one camp bead hanging from her neck. They all look up—but Jason seeks out Praetor Nico’s reaction.

Praetor Nico soaks Jason in, his lips pressed together. Roman Percy and Beth stare at him. Reyna waltzes around her desk and takes a coffee from Thalia. She presses a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Well,” she announces, “this is an improvement to the pontifex robes.”

That seems to snap people out of their stupor. Jason tugs at the collar of his shirt, his cheeks hot—but he’s not quite sure why. “Thanks. Still doesn’t really feel like _me_ though.”

“I’m not surprised.” Thalia’s gaze flickers with amusement. “Considering _Nico_ got you that shirt.”

Oh. Another one. Jason’s fingers curl beneath the collar of his shirt and his cheeks warm again. He looks back to Praetor Nico—catches him staring—and suddenly ponders whether stripping would be a good idea. Again.

Praetor Nico snaps out of his stupor and accepts the coffee handed to him. “You sleep okay?”

“No nightmares,” Jason says—and he watches as Praetor Nico’s gaze flickers with mute relief. “Just…a lot of thinking.”

An ebony eyebrow arches in the air. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Jason weighs Nico’s words, the reluctance building in his mind. “Not sure yet.”

Praetor Nico’s gaze doesn’t waver. Slowly, he takes a sip of his own coffee—then scrunches his face to the room. Jason turns around—and quickly notices everyone looking away, pretending not to soak in their interaction.

“Two brownies, Jason?” Roman Percy snorts. He peers in the bag and makes a face, offended. “And nothing _blue_?”

“Sorry. Slipped my mind.” The corner of Jason’s lips twitch as he watches the familiarity leak from this version of his friend.

Roman Percy flashes him a look of dismay—then looks to Thalia. “Well?”

“Sorry,” Thalia says, and she waves her hand dismissively. “Didn’t care enough.”

“Gods, you’re so rude,” Roman Percy grumbles—and he rolls his eyes in the same way Praetor Nico did last night. He breaks an M&M cookie in half and tosses it to Praetor Nico. Then—“Hey—this office has strict rules against PDA.”

He waves a hand dramatically in Thalia and Reyna’s direction—who are standing much closer, and with much more intimacy than Jason saw yesterday. He could blush at the unabashed way Thalia stares at Reyna.

“Fuck off, Percy,” Thalia chides between her grin. She winks at Jason—so startlingly affectionate, then goes in for another kiss. Reyna only rolls her eyes.

“Beth and I follow this rule,” Percy protests.

Beth pulls one earbud out of her ear, the amusement evident in her gaze. With deadpan, she adds, “I’m heartbroken every day, Kelp Brain.”

Roman Percy harrumphs. Praetor Nico snorts—and Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Is it always like this?” he asks.

Praetor Nico looks back at him with calm, azure eyes, and his own lips twitch. “It’s calmer than usual.”

They enjoy their breakfast with the light atmosphere. With Beth’s encouragement, Jason takes a seat beside her and watches everything unfold. Thalia’s smile is light and devilish. Jason’s _never_ seen his own Reyna light up the way this one does, with her hand folded beneath his sister’s. Even Beth and Roman Percy have a slightly different dynamic—of a couple that’s still getting to know each other rather than the childhood friends that could finish each other’s sentences.

Praetor Nico takes it all in stride—but once in a while, Jason catches him staring with the same worry from before.

Eventually, they finish eating. Roman Percy is the one who reminds Jason why he’s there.

“What’s the plan today?” Roman Percy asks. He crumples his cookie wrapper and tosses into the trash can. His expression is serious—a concern there that’s reminiscent to Jason’s own Percy. The seven stripes on his arm is what separates him from the son of Poseidon. “Gonna knock on some more doors and figure out what god summoned you?”

Jason hesitates. He’s not sure. “I don’t know. Unless the Roman gods here are somehow better about talking to their children.”

Everyone collectively looks around the room.

“No,” they all say in unison.

Roman Percy makes a face, and he turns to look Beth in the eye. They share a private conversation—something Jason knows all too well.

“The last time a god came to Camp Jupiter was for the War Games,” Beth says. She wrinkles her nose and traces the owl on her arm. “Mars. He came to assign a quest to Percy, Frank, and I to go to Alaska and—”

“And retrieve the eagle. The one Michael Varus tried to find,” Jason finishes. His chest aches at _that_ name, and he crumples his own napkin. Everyone stares at him curiously. “My Hazel, Percy, and Frank went on that quest.”

Roman Percy stares at him carefully. “You and I got swapped in your universe.”

“We did,” Jason confirms.

Again, Roman Percy’s face twists—like _that_ explanation didn’t make sense. “Weird.”

“Very weird.” The corner of Jason’s lips curls. “Okay, then I’ll join the next War Game. There should be one tonight, right?”

He knows the answer to that. There’s a war game _every_ night. The Romans loved to plan, strategize, and fantasize about the glories of war. However—suddenly all eyes are on him again. Thalia chokes on her coffee. Roman Percy suddenly stare sat him like he’s grown a second head.

“Jace,” Beth says slowly, “you want to join a War Game.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement that she’s trying to believe. Jason pulls his gaze back to her with curiosity. “Well…yeah. If that’s what it took to summon a god the first time. Why not?”

Her mouth stays open, eyebrows knitting together.

“Jason.” Praetor Nico catches his attention—and suddenly, Jason’s very aware of how much concern everyone is pouring into this. “Why would you want to put yourself through that?”

Jason stares at him, still unable to piece the nonsense together. “Because it might give us a clue where Jace went.”

“When’s the last time you fought, Grace?” Roman Percy asks.

“Right before I died.” Which—probably shouldn’t roll off the tongue as quickly as it does. Roman Percy looks disarmed at that answer. “I don’t get it—what’s the big deal?”

They all look to each other—and suddenly, the nervousness bubbles in Jason’s stomach. There’s a silent conversation happening between all of them—one about him, and he isn’t privy to it. There’s a _concern_ there that Jason doesn’t think is warranted.

“You,” Praetor Nico says quietly, “just haven’t fought in a while.”

“I’ll be fine, Nico. If this is what it takes.” Jason weighs his own words. “I’ll need a gladius. I think I lost mine when I got stabbed—”

“Please—” Praetor Nico interjects. He squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples. “Please stop mentioning that so casually.”

Right. The image of red-rimmed blue eyes and furious Nico di Angelo, son of Jupiter suddenly comes back to mind. A pang of guilt shoots through Jason.

“Sorry,” Jason apologizes—and his gaze slowly lifts to Thalia—who stares at him with just as much worry. “I…I think I’ll be okay though. I haven’t done this in a while. It’s kind of exciting.”

Roman Percy seems to recover first. He tilts his head and stares at him warily. “Which cohort would you be representing?”

“The best one.” Jason’s lips curl into a full smile. “The Fifth.”

His smile only widens as he notices Thalia perk.

Slowly, he reaches out and gives her hand a firm squeeze. “I’ve never had the chance to do one of these with my sister before.”

Thalia’s eyes flicker with a quiet storm—but she weighs his words. She turns her gaze to Praetor Nico—and the two of them seem to share a private conversation. Praetor Nico looks nauseous—but he doesn’t protest.

“Okay,” is all he can say.

“Okay,” Thalia repeats.

And Jason’s whole body radiates with excitement.

Tonight, he’ll be representing the Fifth Cohort and fighting alongside his big sister.

*

Nico isn’t the first one in front of the Big House in the morning. He dresses in his normal clothes and stares in the mirror—hoping he doesn’t start the day as haggard as he felt last night. Leo is already sitting on the porch, his hands folded across his lap as though they’ve ran out of ways to tinker. They catch each other’s gaze, and a somberness carries in Leo’s irises.

“Hey, man,” Leo greets. He gives a mock salute, but there isn’t a smile to his face.

Nico resists the urge to look behind him—to see if Leo is greeting _another_ demigod. And slowly, he makes his way up the steps of the porch. “Couldn’t sleep?”

The corner of Leo’s lips twitch, gaze grimmer than Nico ever remembers seeing, and he shrugs. “I was afraid I’d wake up, and he’d be…” Leo trails off. He doesn’t clarify who _he_ is. Instead, Leo looks back at Nico, a glimmer of fear in his gaze. “He’s here, right? Jason—Jace. He’s here, in Camp Halfblood.”

“His soul hasn’t left,” Nico confirms—and it’s the first time he’s said it aloud this morning. He decides not to mention that it’s the first thing that he _looked_ for this morning. To make sure Jace _was_ there.

“Gods,” Leo murmurs, and he buries his head in his hands.

Nico is hesitant. He sees the restless way Leo is tapping his foot against the floorboard. “What was that about? Yesterday, I mean.”

Leo peers back at him between his fingers, more serious than Nico has ever seen him. Then, he drags his hands down his cheeks, stretching out his face, and rocks back against his seat.

“Do you know how the three of us met?” he asks.

Nico shakes his head.

“Jason woke up on a bus and suddenly all of us were together.” Leo fiddles with the pockets of his olive-green jacket and pulls out metal scraps. “Piper and I thought we’d been friends with Jason for months. Juno needed us together for the prophecy. Plus—two out of three Greek demigods probably helped Jason’s chances in getting accepted by Camp Halfblood. Piper got thrown off the side of the Grand Canyon and Jason jumped after her.”

Nico could laugh. “As Jason would.”

“As he would.” Leo actually does laugh—a quiet, bitter thing. And he shakes his head. “But that entire first quest—while we were trying to figure out Jason’s memories, he was also terrified whether or not he was _good_ or _bad._ And we figured out the last semester was just a joke. Piper didn’t have a boyfriend, and I didn’t have my best friend.”

He pulls out a screwdriver and gives it a slow wave—then he shoots a pointed look.

“Jason’s always been good,” Leo decides, and he rolls his eyes with a bitter resolve. “You’ll never meet a more noble Superman. He and I came out of that quest better than the Mist memory Tia Callida put in my head.”

He falls quiet.

“I told him things. About my mom. About my powers,” Leo says. The metal clanks in his fingers. “A good listener, that one. Big ears to match that big heart.”

There’s a fondness to his voice that makes Nico want to smile.

“I knew our friendship was real because I’ve _never_ told anyone about my powers. And he wanted me to stay when he found out that he had a scary pretty badass long-lost big sister,” Leo continues. He makes a tick mark with his fingers for each adjective and keeps going. Slowly, he clothes his eyes and shakes his head. “But _Piper…_ she was always trying to recreate those memories with Jason. She had this idea of what their relationship should be like. There’s this one memory she never shut up about—watching stars on the rooftop. I can’t tell you how many times I heard that one.”

“They did that a lot.” Nico falls quiet, watching the son of Hephaestus simmer over his best friend. “When they missed you.”

Leo’s brow visibly furrows, and he stuffs his metal scraps and alloys back in his pockets—as if trying to focus that nervous energy elsewhere.

“They were supposed to take care of each other,” Leo finishes quietly. “I was—Calypso and I were just going to travel the world for a bit. She hadn’t seen it in thousands of years. They were supposed to be here when I finally got back. They _both_ were.”

Again, Leo falls silent, his gaze intense and upset.

“I’m glad he was able to save Piper.” Leo shakes his head with defeat and settles back into the swinging bench. “I’m glad that she’s able to _move on_ and find someone else. Her new girlfriend treats her well.”

_Girlfriend_? Nico stares in surprise, but Leo’s already moved on.

“But Jason’s legacy doesn’t deserve to get shit on because she’s guilty about him dying. I don’t care that she broke up with him before he died. I cared that she didn’t tell me the truth.” Leo shakes his head and crosses his arms with finality. “Our boy didn’t deserve that. Charmspeak or not, he was good to her. He took a brick in the head for her. I can’t tell you how many times she _yelled_ at him because she thought he’d leave her for Reyna.”

Nico is still lost in the details. “So, Piper’s bi, too.”

Leo’s gaze flits back to him—evidently puzzled to be back on this subject. He makes a face, then nods. “She’s out now. Guess she doesn’t visit camp enough to indulge on that detail.”

Nico’s not sure what to say. The floorboard creaks beneath his feet, and slowly, he settles next to Leo.

“I guess Jason knew. Or at least—he insisted she should figure herself out,” Leo says.

Nico’s own heart hurts. “He’s good at that. Supporting people while they figure themselves out.”

Leo spares him a glance but doesn’t say much more. “The sad part is—I almost don’t blame her. Jason’s just that rugged and noble or whatever. What he was willing to do for her and what she _wanted_ him to do for her probably crossed a lot.” As an afterthought, he adds, “you never want for your wires to cross. That makes for bad electrical work.”

“Are you going to forgive her?”

“Inevitably.” Leo’s demeanor shifts, and his gaze dims. He swallows thickly. “He wouldn’t want us to fight. Not, uh. Not after all that time searching for me. But I’ll forgive her eventually. On my terms.”

Nico stares at the son of Hephaestus. “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“About Jason.” Nico starts messing with a worn area of his jeans. “About him being bi.”

Leo stares at him with disbelief—but he can’t fathom why. “Dude, really?”

Nico’s cheeks burn, and he plays with the nick in his denim. “Please just answer the question.”

Leo’s quiet laugh almost feels ill-timed, but he continues to rock the swinging bench at a velocity that Nico doesn’t like. He shoves a hand in his jacket pocket and there’s a faint jingling.

“No, can’t say it ever came up in conversation,” Leo says finally. “But—it’s not like I never wondered.”

“What made you wonder?”

To Nico’s surprise, Leo’s gaze raises towards him. Leo scans Nico up and down—and Nico _swears_ Leo’s gaze lingers on his arms. The son of Hephaestus looks like he’s holding back a laugh, which makes Nico self-conscious.

“What?” Nico asks, and his cheeks burn brighter.

“Nothing,” Leo replies innocently, then he shrugs. “Like I said—only weird little thoughts in _this_ head.”

Nico’s unconvinced by the answer—but decides he doesn’t want to press further. Understanding Leo Valdez’s thought process could often times feel like playing Russian Roulette blindfolded. Instead, he steadies his heels against the swinging bench and fiddles with his skull ring.

“I’m here, you know,” he says quietly.

Leo cocks his head back to him, evidently surprised.

“If you ever want to talk about his death.” Nico fidgets. “Jason was my friend, too.”

Slowly, Leo’s demeanor breaks into a smile. “Thanks, man.”

Eventually, the others gather. Nico watches Percy and Annabeth’s smiles waver as they approach the Big House—like the reality of the situation has finally hit them. Hazel greets Nico with a kiss and wary eyes—while Frank seems to do an assessment of Leo. Leo almost flips like a switch.

“Did you have to arm wrestle for top bunk, Frank?” Leo jests. He sniggers. “What I wouldn’t give to watch you suplex Clarisse.”

“That sounds _terrifying_ ,” Frank laments—but he’s smiling, too.

Piper’s there. The moment she and Leo make eye contact, Leo’s smile fades ever-so slightly—but there aren’t harsh words. Just sadness.

Slowly, the door to the Big House creeks open—and Jace pauses as he takes in the sight of all of them. “Oh. I didn’t expect to see all of you so early in the morning.”

The surprise is evident on his face—but Nico’s surprised, too.

“You changed.” Nico looks Jace up and down. “You’re wearing a camp shirt.”

The warm orange hue of the shirt stands out against Jace’s person—stark and bright against his pale skin. The fit is right. Nico can’t help but linger—taking in the same faint scar against Jace’s lip, and the steady curve of Jace’s jaw.

“Holy Hera,” Percy whispers behind them. “Now I really _do_ feel like I’ve seen a ghost.”

“Chiron gave me some clothes after yesterday.” The corner of Jace’s lips twitch faintly. His fingers curl against the collar of his shirt, and the Pegasus ripples across his chest. “I have to say, I haven’t worn one of these in a while.”

His voice is strained. Tight. All that’s missing is a set of camp beads over his clavicle—the one that Jason had earned in his only summer at camp. Then he really would be the spitting image of Jason Grace.

Nico only snaps out of his stupor as Jace turns to face him. He blinks.

“You sleep okay last night?” Jace whispers. His voice thrums with a concern that makes all of Nico tingle.

Nico’s gaze falls to the floor—and he’s aware of all of the eyes suddenly falling to them. To their quiet conversation.

“Better than usual,” Nico admits. He glances back up through his bangs—and notices the steady focus in Jace’s eyes. Gray lines the other son of Hades’s eyes—and part of Nico wonders if Jace has stayed up all night thinking about him. Worrying about him.

They’re close, in that world.

Just…not as close as Nico wants.

“We,” Nico announces, and he turns to address the group as well, “should get started.”

Jace’s grip hasn’t relinquished over Nico’s shoulder. “I was thinking about that.”

Nico’s heart tightens. “What were you thinking?”

A thoughtful look twists over Jace’s face and he points to the morning sky. “We should at least wait until it gets dark. All of my attempts yesterday were in the afternoon. I’m not sure if the sunlight had anything to do with it.” 

His gaze flits back to Nico.

“We’ll have better luck with more darkness. And.” Jace falls quiet. His other hand rises, clasping slowly on Nico’s other shoulder. He’s close—close enough for Nico to see more of the charcoal hue of his eyes and the unease that comes with it. “I don’t want you to push yourself.”

Nico returns Jace’s gaze, at a loss. The worry brims steadily in Jace’s gaze—and this time, Nico is too stricken with surprise to avert his eyes. “So what are you proposing? Just—just waiting?”

“Yeah. If that’s okay.” Jace finally relinquishes his grip, then addresses the rest of the group. “And if it doesn’t work, then we’ll try again tomorrow.”

Annabeth regains her thoughts first. “When Reyna and Thalia get here.”

The corner of Jace’s lips lift with another strained smile and he nods. “Yeah. When Thalia and Reyna get here.”

“So you’re staying.” Leo perks, a grin spreading across his lips.

“For now,” Jace says—and he returns a less wary smile.

“Dude—” Percy laughs with a raw glee—and he claps a hand over Jace’s back. “We could sing campfire songs tonight. And sit together at the Dining Pavilion. Gods—do you know how long it’s been since we’ve played Capture the Flag together? I’ve been _dying_ for a rematch since you swept in and took the flag under my nose last summer.”

“Oh, um.” Jace looks uncomfortable. His gaze flickers back to Nico—who’s still processing the first declaration. “I. I don’t fight.”

That snaps Nico out of his stupor. For the first time, he realizes he hasn’t once seen Jace’s sword. Jason’s gladius was a Legion standard that turned into a javelin on command—beautifully crafted and bound with leather. But—Jace had nothing on his person other than the orange t-shirt and black joggers.

A son of Hades—child of the Big Three—who doesn’t fight. Nico startles as Percy flashes him a look—but it’s not unwarranted.

“Like, ever?” Percy asks, skeptical. “Were there any prophecies or anything in your world? Kronos?”

At the mention of Kronos, Jace looks even more ill at ease. And again, he insists, “I don’t fight anymore _._ ”

“How?” Percy asks, and he stares at Jace. “Seriously—you look like you could bench, like, six Nicos.”

“Percy.” Nico sharply places a protective arm in front of Jace, his lips contorting into a frown. “He doesn’t have to fight if he doesn’t want to.”

He doesn’t miss the way Jace sighs in relief. Nico doesn’t miss the way Leo is eying him, either—and he’s one bothersome word away from glaring at the son of Hephaestus, too. A faint thought occurs to Nico—and he wishes it didn’t.

If Jason stopped fighting, too, he’d still be alive.

“Right.” Percy sobers from his excitement—and that somberness from last night returns. Nico can only wonder if the son of Poseidon just had the same thought. Then, slowly, his lips curl into another smile. “Nothing wrong with that. Being a spectator can be fun, too.”

Annabeth nudges him softly in the arm—if only to dissuade any disappointment. She eyes Jace. “We should grab breakfast then. We’re a long way from Capture the Flag.”

“Yeah.” Jace returns her smile. “Beth’s right. Best to get the day started.”

Her gaze flickers curiously—charmed, maybe. Nico’s never been too sure what their relationship was like. He knows the Argo II Crew is close—just not close enough to keep in touch on the daily basis since they’re no longer on a ship. Regardless, Jace seems to default in her presence.

Slowly, they break off from the porch. Nico startles as he’s tugged back. Jace is staring at him with the same worry from the night before.

“Will you be playing tonight?” he asks.

“I always do.” Nico can’t help feeling embarrassed. He shakes his head and tugs at the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m…fine, Jace. A routine like this helps.”

The reassurance doesn’t seem like a lot at first. But Jace slowly relinquishes his grip and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

“I’m fine,” Nico repeats. “I’m here.”

He’s here. Jace is here. Jace isn’t Jason—but he’s close. And he’s staying.

“I’ll be rooting for you.” Jace’s smile is weak.

Nico’s cheeks grow hot, and he nods. “Thanks.”

For now, he reminds himself. Jace is here for now.

*

In some ways, Jason feels like he’s never left. In others, this New Rome doesn’t even feel like _his_ New Rome.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Praetor Nico—despite Jason’s insistence—is inspecting him, looking at every strap and buckle that still feel like they fit like a glove.

Jason traded Jace’s white shirt in favor of the standard purple—otherwise he’d stick out like a sore thumb. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He thinks he’s going to stick out like a sore thumb anyway. New Rome doesn’t exactly collect children of Jupiter in sets. Praetor Nico flutters like a hummingbird. He crouches to the ground to inspect Jason’s shin guards—only to do nothing. Jason’s armor is satisfactory for one Nico di Angelo, son of Jupiter.

“I could use you for a model for our younger campers,” Praetor Nico mumbles. Jason only laughs.

“I’ve been doing this for a while now.” Jason inspects his gladius. The handle isn’t as worn as the one he’s grown used to—but it still fits well in his palm. Jason gives it a few test swings. “You’re acting like I’ve never been a War Game before.”

Praetor Nico flashes him a stern look. “Because my Jace _hasn’t._ ”

Jason decides to ignore how that sounds. _My_ Jace. He shakes his head, trying the sword between both his hands. “I know how to fight, Nico. It’s in my blood.”

“Yes,” Praetor Nico agrees, and he shrinks into himself, arms crossed disapprovingly over his chest. “Your last one went so well.”

On reflex, Jason’s palm presses to his head. “What happened in my last…oh. Right.” He died.

There’s a miss of exasperation and discontentment over Praetor Nico’s face. He’s boiling with an impending rage—but he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and stares at him with—well. Slightly less irritation. Then he points to the sky.

“I’ll be surveying with the eagles,” Praetor Nico announces. “If _anything_ goes wrong—”

“The eagles will take me to the infirmary,” Jason finishes. He smiles, despite Praetor Nico’s sour mood. “I know what I’m doing, Nico.”

Praetor Nico looks unconvinced—but slowly, his demeanor flickers with resignation.

They reassemble with the Fifth Cohort. Jason doesn’t miss the way Roman Percy’s eyes flicker, baffled at the sight of him in armor the same way Praetor Nico was. As Jason turns, Praetor Nico plops a helmet on his head.

“Good luck,” Praetor Nico says. He stares at him, austere. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

Then, Praetor Nico takes off into the sky. Jason doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. He snaps out of his thoughts as Thalia claps a hand on his back—a tame, but happy smile across her face.

“Ready, baby brother?” she asks.

Jason takes her in. The imperial gold armor is different from her silver circlet and silver parka. Warmer, despite the eeriness he’s come to associate with Hades. He smiles, his gladius in hand. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Members of the Fifth Cohort are confused to see him. Jason thinks it’s been at least two years since he was in a War Game. Once he was raised on a shield, strategizing like this no longer happened. Reyna and he needed to think of the betterment of the whole Legion—not just each individual cohort. Jason can list all the ways he _tried_ to improve the Legion once praetorship was thrust upon him. He can think of all the ways the Senate turned him down, too.

Roman Percy looks like a natural fit between Gwen and Dakota. There’s an energy to him that’s almost exactly like the Percy Jason he’s used to—with wily grins, and a mischievous glint to his eyes. Percy, son of Poseidon is an unrelenting storm at sea—with an unbridled attitude that carried him through quests and life. This Percy has all of that raw, brash energy that has been refined into a polished gemstone, thanks to Roman tradition.

“Beth is just spectating?” Jason observes. He catches a glimpse of blond hair from one of the watchtowers.

“We butt heads too much,” Roman Percy says. He rolls his eyes and shrugs. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more ridiculous statement. “Thalia will do her thing with the armor.”

“Her thing?” Jason repeats. As he turns to Thalia, she flashes a finger gun at him and winks. He feels the armor on his torso rattle, and—“Oh-kay. Good enough for me.”

“We’ll have to get rid of the sentries at the wall. They’ll be expecting me to mess with the water lines.” Roman Percy heaves a long, tired sigh and fiddles with a pen between his fingers. Riptide. “Fool them once, shame on them. Fool them a _thousand_ times…well. Shame on them again.”

Thalia ribs him, a laugh teeming from her lips. “Look at you, using your brain for once, Jackson.”

Roman Percy flashes a boyish grin and ribs her back. “I’ve got an ex-praetor who’ll never let me live it down if we lose tonight. Call it self-preservation.”

“Hey now—” Thalia beams and points another finger gun towards the son of Neptune. She slings an arm around Jason—which is almost comically too short. “—you’ve got _two_ ex-praetors and Praetor _Baby Brother_ who’ll never let you hear the end of it if we lose. _Aut vincere aut mori_ , Kelp Head.”

There’s a warmth in Thalia’s chortles that makes Jason laugh, too. He mirrors her grin—and notices Roman Percy’s eyes ripple with amusement.

“How about I do it?” Jason suggests.

“Okay,” Roman Percy agrees. Then, “do what?”

“Get rid of the sentries. They’ll expect it from you,” Jason says. “Not from me.”

Roman Percy assesses him, the corner of his lip twitching.

“What, Jackson?” Jason urges. “Afraid I’ll steal the glory away from you?”

_That_ gets his attention. Roman Percy blinks twice, and then a smirk evokes across his face. “Alright, Grace. I’ll let you deal with the sentries.”

With a boyish grin of his own, Jason extends a hand for a fistbump. “First one to the banner claims glory for the Fifth Cohort.”

Roman Percy laughs, and fistbumps him back. “ _Now_ you’re speaking my language.”

Thalia waves a hand in the air and their heads collide—helmet first.

“Oof!” “ _Ack!”_

“That goes for anyone in the Fifth Cohort,” Thalia remarks, and she spares this world’s Dakota look—who laughs. “Not just these two and their weird dick-measuring contest.”

Jason rubs his forehead and smiles sheepishly. Roman Percy rolls his eyes.

Then—Centurion Percy Jackson uncaps Riptide and clacks his sword against his shield. “And… _break!_ ”

They section off the Fifth Cohort. Thalia delivers a mock salute and a smirk far more intimidating than either Jason or Percy can conjure. Then—they disappear beneath a pile of rubble.

Roman Percy gives one appreciative whistle with the remainder of their cohort. “The last time we did one of these, she left me in a ditch. Hopefully that doesn’t happen again.”

Jason blinks. “Were you on the opposing team?”

“Nope.” Roman Percy flashes him a wry look that makes Jason laugh—but then he points to the other side of the Field. “Careful, Grace. Neeks’ll kill me if I return you damaged.”

Part of Jason is flattered to be thought so highly of. He looks around briefly to their arena. “Where’s the Fourth Cohort?”

Roman Percy stares at him with amusement. “With the First, Second, and Third.”

That confuses Jason. “Wait, really?”

“Please. Three Big Three children leading the charge in one fight?” Roman Percy claps him on the back with a sword. “We gotta make it fair _somehow._ ”

Jason follows Percy’s lead. They’ve played plenty of Capture the Flag games together—causing more property damage than Chiron liked—so in a way, there isn’t much of a difference. Following Percy is like following a river—the waves of a current that are so refined and direct that Jason has to follow Roman Percy’s lead by quiet Latin phrases and hand signals rather than weird faces and mouthing words.

Up above, the eagles circle them with a cry. Jason catches sight of Praetor Reyna on her pegasi and Praetor Nico floating in the air—both decked out in imperial gold armor and purple cloaks. This Nico belongs in the air as much as Jason’s Nico lives in the shadows. It’s mindblowing how much a leadership role just _suits_ Nico—with that commandeering demeanor sculpted so well after Reyna and a cape that drapes eloquently over his taut arms.

Jason reminds himself this Nico doesn’t have nearly as many medals as he did. Praetor Nico opted for a childhood instead.

They catch sight of each other briefly—and Jason can’t help but wave. There’s hesitation, before Praetor Nico waves back.

Roman Percy snorts. “Geez. You two are obvious no matter _who_ your dads are.”

Red flutters across Jason’s face—though he’s not sure if he picks up on the humor in the son of Neptune’s tone. “I’m sorry?”

Roman Percy doesn’t answer him. “Look sharp, Grace.”

The War Game begins.

The Field of Mars has the same energy Jason is used to—everchanging for all possible war strategies to prepare for the worst. The layout morphs to reflect the Legion’s latest trifles. The Fifth Cohort buckles down, practically arm-in-arm as they march towards the barricade. Soldiers fall in line with Roman Percy’s command—and Roman Percy looks thrilled to be doing it.

No irritation. No anger—just a Son of Neptune who’s spent the last six years knowing he was a demigod and was allowed to prosper in the safety of New Rome and have a monster-free education. Jason _knows_ Percy is smart. This Percy knows, too.

“ _Ut incepit fidelis sic perminet_ ,” Roman Percy mutters under his breath. His gaze flits over to Jason with a half-smile—and Jason smiles back.

Loyal she began, loyal she remains.

The Fourth Cohort notices them first—fifty armed teenagers charging towards them in succinct fashion at the foot of the barricade.

“Fifth! _Parati!_ ” Roman Percy shouts—and Jason readies his own gladius. “ _Ordinem servate!_ ”

Maintain formation. Jason blinks. The Fourth barrels towards them, swords and shields in hand while an unseen centurion is barking his own orders.

They get closer, closing the feet between them.

Closer.

Jason turns his head with confusion. “Percy—”

The ground in front of them suddenly collapses into a narrow fifteen-foot ditch. The earth rumbles between their feet, and the Fourth Cohort suddenly drops forward. The front row tries to skid to a halt—but scream, as every unassuming Fourth Cohort Legionnaire bumps into them. At the bottom of the ditch, Jason hears the unmistakable sound of his sister’s cackles.

Unsurprised, Percy bangs his sword against his shield. “ _MOVE!”_

As they hop over the ditch, Jason catches sight of Thalia splicing through the Fourth Cohort like Jell-O. He’s busy looking around—staring at the way Roman Percy commandeers the Fifth Cohort that he almost runs into a sword.

“ _Sta_ , Grace!” Roman Percy grabs him, annoyed. “You trying to get shish kabobed tonight?”

“Not at all, Centurion Jackson.” Jason can’t help his laugh. He hasn’t had this much fun in a long time—not since preparing for his own death.

Jason’s _used_ to being in games like this. He’s _used_ to working in teams—but he’s also used to being deferred to as a leader. Roman Percy and he fight side-by-side, shoving through the remaining flanks of Fourth Cohort soldiers. Fighting beside Roman Percy is like a violent wind helping push a current. And, while there are some aspects about this Percy that are different—

“ _DON’T LET JACKSON NEAR THE WATER!”_ shouts a Third Cohort sentry sitting atop the barricade.

—other things about him are very much the same. Roman Percy swears under his breath—not a Latin curse or Ancient Greek, but a grumbly, Manhattan, “Well, shit.”

Arrows fly.

“ _Shields_!” Roman Percy orders—and the Fifth Cohort raises their shields. Jason doesn’t. He charges forward, his sword behind him—and as he swings, a big gust of wind follows, knocking the rain of arrows off kilter.

There’s a halting pause for every Roman on the battlefield, who try to process the son of Jupiter on the field is different from the praetor hovering over them. Even Percy looks surprised.

“Percy?” Jason calls—which snaps Roman Percy out of his stupor.

“Fifth!” Roman Percy throws his hands in the air. “ _Percute!”_

The Fifth Cohort charges across the length of the wall and begin to climb—while the Third Cohort recovers. Another storm of arrows rages from above, and Jason summons another zephyr with more vibrato. The resulting arrows puncture the dirt. Then—Jason extends a hand to the son of Neptune.

“Need a lift?” he asks.

Roman Percy looks puzzled—but grabs his hand anyway.

“Now,” Roman Percy announces, “how’d we try to cleverly disguise the waterlines this time?”

There’s away Roman Percy looks, his gaze narrowed and focused as he searches from overhead. Eagles are already plucking wounded campers from the battlefield. Jason has them high enough in the air that arrows can’t reach. Jason looks briefly in the sky for Praetor Nico—but he wouldn’t be surprised if both praetors got lost in the folds of retrieving the Fourth from Thalia’s narrow ditch.

“Got it,” Roman Percy says.

Suddenly—the walls of the barricade tremble. Water spits through the top of the barrier like a sprinkler system—and knocks Third Cohort sentries from their posts like ants.

“Bro,” Roman Percy says—and he grins with excitement as they land on the other side of the post, with the Second Cohort charging them. “Hurricane?”

Jason grins back. “Hurricane.”

They wield their swords together, as though they’ve done this _thousands_ of times—and the sky looms a stormy black. It’s different from Praetor Nico’s storm—Jason feels the winds coursing through his veins, and the storm clouds growing with each of his breaths—and wind _blasts_ the first row of Second Cohort soldiers from the left. Rain _pelts_ soldiers from the right. Roman Percy and Jason knock through the ones undeterred by their storm.

The hurricane just gets stronger as they go. Jason charges against three Second Cohort legionnaires and sweeps them off their feet. From the corner of his eye, he sees Roman Percy blocking with a shield before knocking two soldiers back.

It _shouldn’t_ be this easy. But for two Heroes of Olympus, taking on fifty other teenagers is apparently a cake walk.

The banner is in sight, gleaming with the Fifth Cohort’s sigil against the wall. The exhaustion tugs at Jason’s gut—from the storms and from the winds. A tiny part of Jason’s brain can’t help but wonder if this body isn’t used to the strain that Jason’s been put through—head injuries, arrow piercings, sword stabbings—but he moves forward because Roman Percy does, too.

_They’re_ tired from the storm, but the First Cohort isn’t.

“Don’t just stand there!” Octavian hollers (Jason makes a mental note that this one is alive—and a little buffer.) “Take them down!”

“Tired, Grace?” Roman Percy eggs on.

Jason grins. “I could do this all day.”

Somehow Jason ends up on the receiving end of this world’s Mike Kahale. Mike is big—the same width and height of Frank with an equally handsome face. He looks puzzled at Jason’s appearance—but doesn’t let it deter his focus.

“You look tired,” Mike Kahale says with a velvety voice—which sends the slightest wave of butterflies through Jason’s head. “Why don’t you put your sword down?”

“Sorry,” Jason apologizes. “Once upon a time, you might’ve been my type.”

Jason swings his sword. Mike—ever a true Roman, sees it coming. He blocks with his shield, the nine stripes on his arm apparent beneath the cold light of the room.

But—Jason isn’t just Roman. He’s Greek, too. He drops the combat ingrained to him by Camp Jupiter for a moment—and channels what Camp Halfblood has taught him.

He switches his sword with the other hand—which Mike’s gaze follows. Then, Jason drives a foot into the son of Venus’s shin as hard as he can—who howls in pain.

From the corner of his eye, Jason catches Roman Percy running for the First Cohort banner. A grin spreads across his lips—

—then he notices Octavian raising a spear from behind, ready to drive it into Roman Percy.

“ _PERCY!”_ Jason shouts. “ _BEHIND YOU!”_

Roman Percy whirls around in an instant—and deflects the spear as it’s thrown towards him.

Jason isn’t as lucky. Mike Kahale swipes towards him—driving his blade through the length of Jason’s forearm with a gladius and disarming the son of Jupiter. “ _Agh!”_

His sword falls to the ground. Jason looks at the deep cut against his skin—blinking with confusion—and Mike Kahale charges towards him again, upper hand regained.

Roman Percy saves him. Instead of going for the banner, he charges Mike Kahale and pushes the son of Venus out an open window.

“ _JACKSOOOOOOOOOOOON!”_ Mike shouts—and his voice diminishes with his descent.

Jason stares in shock. “Dude—”

Roman Percy holds a hand. Wait.

There’s a splash at the bottom—and the last defending soldier from the First Cohort has been defeated.

The son of Neptune smiles victoriously and extends a hand. “Gravity’s a real bitch, isn’t it?”

Jason has no other words—all he can do is laugh as Roman Percy helps him to his feet.

They grab the banner together—as two comrades on the same team.

Reyna and Praetor Nico land as Roman Percy and Jason make it to the foot of the barricade. A look of amusement curls against Reyna’s face—and she leans over, to whisper something in Praetor Nico’s ear. Praetor Nico stares at both of them, azure eyes darting between the pair—and he grins so wide that Jason’s heart skips a beat.

“The winner is clear!” Praetor Nico announces—and he turns around. “Victory for the Fifth Cohort!”

A round of cheers echoes through the Field of Mars. Jason catches a glimpse of Thalia as she arrives past the barricade, black ensemble covered in dirt—and she smiles proudly at him. Roman Percy ribs Jason—and Jason cheers, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe! It snowed here yesterday so we're enjoying the warmth inside. Thank you so much for reading, and please comment if you can! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He struck me in the chest,” Jason whispers—and he trembles. He feels himself shaking out of fear, out of pain—and the bitter end finally strikes him in the head. “He killed me.”

“You’re sure about this,” Percy says. “You don’t want to fight?”

Nico watches as Percy tucks a helmet under his arm and keeps his gaze steady at the blond son of Hades. Most of the other campers have already made their way to the forest for preparations. Percy is apparently still trying to figure Jace out.

“Well,” Jace says at the foot of the infirmary. “As far as I understand, the last fight didn’t end well for me.”

The joke is just morbid enough that Nico snorts. Percy make a face—evidently taken aback by the statement—but Nico doesn’t blame Percy’s confusion. In the orange Camp Halfblood shirt and arms crossed over his chest, Jace’s silhouette is uncanny to the son of Jupiter that they know. Jason has _always_ radiated with the energy of a soldier. To have that wingspan and trade in a gladius for lollipops and ACE bandages instead is…well.

“Weird,” Percy mutters under his breath—and Nico can only imagine what’s going on in his head. “Well—you’ve always been prone to a head injury or two. You’re better off this way, Jace.”

Jace’s gaze flashes briefly, his demeanor similar to a confused puppy. He rubs his forehead.

“Nico—” Percy turns and reaches to touch Nico’s shoulder—then stops. “I’ll see you out there. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. Both sons of Hades watch as Percy scampers off into the forest.

“Um. You’ll wear a helmet.” Jace’s eyebrows knit with worry and he stares at Nico. “Right?”

Nico’s cheeks burn at the gentleness of his tone. His fingers curl against the skull helmet under his arm, decorated with a blue plume to match tonight’s team. “Trust me—I always do. Percy’s right. You’re the one we’re usually worried about.”

As he looks up, he notices Jace’s gaze at the helmet, wearily charmed. But it fades softly, into another quiet worry. Nico shifts on his feet once more, his cheeks burning.

“You…don’t need to do that,” he mutters quietly.

Jace blinks at him, puzzled. “Do what?”

“Care.” Nico’s gaze falls to his shoelaces, self-conscious, and he slowly puts the helmet on his head. His heart aches. “I know going to Tartarus again was a stupid idea. I’m—I’m not doing it again. I’ve learned my lesson. I have people to talk to in case I do something crazy again. I won’t. So you don’t need to do that.”

His cheeks burn with a quiet shame. He doesn’t want to talk about Jace’s own opposition to him going—how Jace’s _don’t do that for me_ felt akin to Jason not wanting to come back. He’d stayed in Tartarus for Jason. Jace probably hated it as much as their Jason would. Jason was happily resting—wherever his soul might be.

“Nico.” Jace’s voice catches his attention, and Nico raises his gaze to a flummoxed blond son of Hades. “This is how I always act around you.”

Nico blinks, and Jace’s demeanor morphs with disquiet.

“I’m not happy that you went down to Tartarus,” he says calmly—and a reluctant struggle radiates across his features. “I hate it when you push yourself. When you push yourself for _me._ ”

Jace reaches over to readjust the helmet over Nico’s head—and Nico gets a better look at Jace’s hardened demeanor as it scans him.

“I just care about you. A lot. I’m always going to care about you,” Jace whispers. “More than most people.”

Oh. “Oh,” is all Nico can muster.

Will slowly approaches from the infirmary, offering a bewildered smile. Nico instinctively staggers back with the hilt of his sword in hand, flustered.

“So you’re really hanging out here. In the infirmary.” Will arches a curious eyebrow at Jace. “There’s not one fighting bone in that body.”

“Not anymore.” Jace smiles weakly. “I’m a little rusty. Hopefully you’re willing to bear with me.”

Will looks as perplexed as Percy did. As Nico feels. Eventually, Will relinquishes that thought. He flashes a look to Nico instead, a quiet concern in his eyes. “See you on the other side, Nico. Hopefully in one piece.”

Jace’s lips etch into a smile—and he repeats the same phrase as before: “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Jace and his ex-boyfriend—standing in an infirmary while Nico spends the next hour slaughtering the Red Team. He can’t imagine anything worse.

“Thanks,” Nico says instead—and he saunters off to join Percy.

By the time he meets with the Blue Team, Annabeth and Percy had already assigned roles. Most of the Athena Cabin is instructed to figure out their way around the Hephaestus Cabin’s booby traps. Annabeth warns that the Ares Cabin will play smarter with Frank on their side. They send the Stoll Brothers out on a scouting mission—but Nico wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already been captured.

Somehow, he ends up guarding the flag with Piper.

It's quiet between the two of them. Much like with Leo, Nico hasn’t often held conversations with Piper. But—one conversation about Jason Grace later, and Nico thinks he and Leo are on amicable terms. He’s not sure Piper and he will get there in the same amount of time.

Piper stares into the reflection of her knife. Nico summons a small cohort of skeleton soldiers to patrol the area for spies. Then…silence.

“How’s school?” Nico asks, when it goes on for far too long.

She raises her gaze, and Nico pretends not to notice. He has a feeling she’s surprised he’s asking.

“Different,” Piper says finally. “Tahlequah is a lot smaller than Malibu.”

“Ah,” is all Nico has to say.

“How’s…school for you?” she asks tentatively.

“I don’t go to school. I study with dead scholars.”

“Oh,” Piper says, and she sounds alarmed. She slowly sheathes her knife. “Um. All A’s?”

“Struggling with math.” Nico fidgets. “Pythagoras is a better scholar than he is an instructor.”

Silence.

“Math sucks,” Piper agrees. “You…know why they put me with you, right?”

Nico sighs, reminded of the conversation that he had with Percy only the night before. “I have an idea.”

An awkward, terrible laugh flutters from Piper’s lips, and she hugs herself over the celestial bronze armor. “Yeah.”

Nico fiddles with one of his belt loops, his other hand coiled around his sword. “They’ll come around eventually. It just takes some time.”

Another miserable laugh comes from Piper’s throat and she buries her face in her hands. “Nico—no offense, but how would you know anything about this? I’ve never had anyone scared about me using my powers before.”

He peers back up at her, biting the inside of his mouth. Piper returns the look, the realization of her own statement hitting her.

“Oh. Right,” she says. “Sorry.”

Nico can only shrug. “It comes with the territory when your dad is the King of the Dead. I’m used to it.”

Piper looks unconvinced by his words—but eventually, she hangs her head and smiles grimly. She fiddles with one of her braids, deep in thought on the other side of the flag. “Love isn’t…people don’t see it as scary. Not like Death. My mom and your dad couldn’t be on more opposite ends of the spectrum.”

The discomfort churns in Nico’s stomach, and he holds back an embittered laugh from two summers past. One that would have pitied his old self in Croatia. “Love can be scarier, Piper.”

He thinks about Cupid and Thanatos—and how their feathered wings bound them. Nico has met his father’s lieutenant many times and nothing makes the anger rot in him more than Cupid. Nothing ever will.

“I…don’t follow, Nico.”

He shifts uncomfortably at his post. The last thing he wants is to have his heart examined by someone from the Aphrodite Cabin. Least of all, Piper, after her little controversy from yesterday. But he knows Jason wouldn’t appreciate the fallout from yesterday. Jace sure didn’t.

“Death is final,” Nico says eventually. “No matter how many quests or paths a person takes—when they close their eyes for the last time, they’re done. They’ll end up at the foot of my father’s throne—even if a Physician’s Cure keeps them alive for just a little longer and that person doesn’t tell anyone they _had_ it.”

He sees Piper makes a face—something akin to a faint smile despite all of the foregoing dispute.

“Love has twists and turns. It’s unpredictable. You never know who the gods will make you fall in love with. Especially when that person isn’t the type of person you were _raised_ to fall in love with.” Nico’s vibrato diminishes at the last part of his sentence—but he perseveres before Piper can put two-and-two together. “Some people grow old together in love. Some people experience tragedies. Like Romeo and Juliet. A whole war happened because of Helen and Paris. One person can die while however many others are left to mourn them.”

His own heart withers at the last fact. Piper stares at him fully, taken aback by his statement.

“Love can be scarier,” Nico repeats. “Death is an inescapable end. Untimely at times, but predictable. Love isn’t.”

Piper’s gaze is fixated on him. Nico tries to feign disinterest—but the discomfort radiates off him anyway. Slowly, she peels her gaze away, her hand falling from her braid.

“Jason didn’t fear death,” she says, after a long, dragging silence. Piper fiddles with her knife again. “He welcomed it.”

Her words could be as sharp as any dagger. Nico swallows hard, his hand curling tightly over the hilt of his sword. “Jason didn’t want you to die.”

“I didn’t ask for him to make that choice for me,” Piper snaps—and a remnant of the anger from the day before is evident. Her demeanor softens as she looks to Nico, then her hand fiddles with her zipper. The sadness glows in her eyes. “I didn’t.”

“I know.” Nico’s voice is soft. He’s ran the scenario in his head a thousand times—before and after Apollo filled him in on the details. It hurts every time—because no matter what factors, Jason would never let it be Piper.

“I would’ve done the same for him if the tables were turned.”

“He never would’ve let you get that far.” Nico shakes his head. “He’s Jason. He’d never put that decision on your shoulders.”

Piper stares at him, another rebuttal at her mouth—but she falls quiet again. “You’re right.”

“Yeah.” Nico knows better than to let the bitterness leak through his voice. Jason made his choice. He counted the days before his death and made all the necessary preparations before Apollo and Meg arrived. He _knew_ about his death, and he was _never_ going to let it be Piper.

“I really didn’t know,” Piper says quietly. “About—about him being bi. He never brought it up, even when I told him I was questioning myself. He wanted me to figure myself out.”

Nico’s stomach is in knots. Every time he thinks about Jace’s dimpled smile at the mention of this mystery boyfriend, another one grows. “He was a good confidante.”

Piper studies him. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Was he…?”

“He was the first to know.” Nico fiddles with his belt again. “About me.”

He laughs a little at himself, familiar tears from that fateful day in Croatia prickling at his eyes. It’s supposed to be a light laugh—but Nico knows any sound from his lips just sounds morbid. Solemn.

Eventually, Nico adds, “I didn’t want anyone to know. But—if anyone was supposed to know, he…”

“He was good,” Piper finishes for him—and her quiet statement emanates with the same care as Leo this morning. “He never feared you, you know.”

Nico shakes his head furiously.

“There was a time he did. We worked on it. He just—” Nico heaves a heavier sigh than he intends. “—he just reached out more than I expected.”

More than Nico knew he needed. 

More than Will, even. Maybe that’s why Nico could never fully commit to Will. Why he couldn’t just leave Tartarus well enough alone.

“Still,” Piper insists. “After what happened with Leo, if he wasn’t with me, then he was with you. He adored your company.”

Pink flushes across Nico’s cheeks—and he so desperately wants to say the sentiment was shared. “Between you and me he never had the chance to look at boys.”

Again, Piper falls quiet, her expression solemn. “I never let him look at anyone.”

A fit of envy boils in Nico’s stomach—but he passes on it. “He would want you to be happy. He wanted a better life for you than death.”

Her eyes are on him again—and Nico’s not sure why he’s nervous.

“Do you think Jace will forgive me?” she asks quietly.

“I think that window closed when our Jason died.” Nico winces at his own words and slowly looks back up to Piper’s expression. She looks hurt—but not nearly as the day before when Leo was yelling them. He wonders what Piper’s long conversation with Hazel and Annabeth entailed when the girls disappeared yesterday. _No one_ seemed happy about what came from it. “Just…keep moving forward, Piper. Don’t ponder the _what ifs._ Those drive a person insane.”

Her protests seem to diminish after that. Nico looks over when she’s quiet for far too long—but she’s in her own head. He thinks back to what Hazel said—the worry, over Piper’s own sorrow. Right now, he doesn’t think Piper’s grieving. There’s shame there.

There’s an explosion to the left of them—coupled with a cacophony of screams. It startles both Nico and Piper into a fighting position—then, nothing.

“I think that’s where the rest of your siblings are,” Nico notes. “Aren’t they in charge of the prison?’

Piper is reluctant—but slowly, she nods. “I didn’t think they’d want to play.”

“You don’t visit often enough. They’ve really whipped into shape while you were in Oklahoma.” Nico’s lip twitches.

She stares at him in disbelief. “ _Drew_ whipped them into shape.”

It’s not a question. Just skepticism. Nico only shrugs—and he refers back to his first statement. “And Mitchell and Lacey. Something about their cabin producing two heroes already.”

From the corner of his eye, he notices Piper’s expression morph—somewhere between flattery and disbelief.

“They’re good for espionage. Glamour and all.” Nico watches her expression change. He doesn’t know much about Piper. Not enough to yell at her for her relationship with Jason the way Leo did—but he knows they both cared. “Love is full of surprises. Much like your siblings.”

Piper’s demeanor shifts, contemplative, and she falls quiet once again. “Yeah. Love really does surprise you.”

Nico shifts uncomfortably between his feet.

“I heard you have a girlfriend now,” he says quietly—and immediately, Piper’s gaze darts back to him—not necessarily alarmed. Not in the way Nico’s own heart spiked when he was still getting used to the other end of that word—but more surprised that he’d be mindful of it.

They always were, he thinks. Jason had gotten to the point where he wasn’t.

“Don’t listen to Leo about that. Grief makes you say angry things,” Nico says. He fidgets again. “Jason would be happy for you.”

Piper’s eyebrows furrow and she’s silent again. “That means a lot coming from you.”

He honestly can’t fathom why.

“If you really want to honor his memory, pin down using charmspeak on your own terms. Get to the point where you’re in control of it. Not the other way around.” He fiddles with his skull ring, a chill running up his spine as his mind flashes back to the Labyrinth. “Get to know your siblings more. I can’t tell you how many conversations I had with him where he _wished_ Thalia could stay for dinner.”

He swallows the lump in his throat.

“It takes time,” Nico says quietly, “but the fear fades. The people who love you more are more important than the people who are afraid of you. Leo knows that.”

He has to remind himself that often, too.

Nico worries he overstepped his boundaries when Piper stops talking altogether. He slowly—anxiously, raises his gaze and notices Piper’s eyes on him again. Studying him. And slowly—a pained, but truthful smile curls against her lips.

He startles, as she reaches over and gives him a hug.

“Um.” Nico shifts uncomfortably. “Piper, I’m—I’m not the biggest fan of touch.”

“Oh. Sorry—” Piper pulls away and stares at him in confusion. “Jason always did it so much, that I—”

“Yeah.” Nico’s cheeks burn—and she respectfully lets go.

“Thanks,” she decides on. “I needed to hear that. I’ve—”

Her expression shifts.

“I’ve probably always needed to hear it. I’ve just never let anyone speak over me,” she says.

“Yeah.” Nico finds his cheeks tingling once more, embarrassed, and he busies himself with tugging on his sleeve instead. “No problem.”

They fall into a more comfortable silence this time. Piper looks like she’s trying to formulate a plan, while Nico tries to search through their conversation to figure out if he’d actually offered sound advice.

Eventually, the first camper finally bursts through—someone from the Ares Cabin, toting one of Nico’s skeleton soldiers as a spoil of war.

“GIVE ME THE FLAG!” Sherman Yang shouts.

_“Hmm,_ ” Piper says—and Nico feels it—the dizzying effect of butterflies. She plants herself in front of the post while Sherman begins to stumble. _“I don’t like that idea.”_

Suddenly, Sherman—much more dazed than before—halts.

“Oh,” he says, his voice weirdly sugary. “What do _you_ think is a good idea?”

_“Turn around, and go send yourself to prison,”_ Piper suggests.

Sherman does just that, making a U-Turn with his machete at his side, and marches off.

Piper flashes Nico a mischievous glint—which, much like how the hug radiated of Jason, teems with Leo.

She does it a few more times with other campers who come by—to the point Nico doesn’t bother holding his sword up anymore.

“Annabeth and Percy should’ve reached the flag by now,” Piper deduces. “Why don’t you scout the area for anything suspicious? I’ve got things handled here. Unless you want to see what _go fuck yourself_ looks like in charmspeak.”

“No, I really don’t think I do.” Nico’s demeanor contorts—something between a laugh and concern.

So, Nico goes on patrol. Piper is right—the air around them is quiet. He summons two more skeleton soldiers to run through the woods and instructs them to report back to him. Then—he inspects his proximity.

There’s rustling in the woods. Capture the Flag in the forest could be intense with the different sounds of dryads, campers, and monsters. The chaos of it all is what makes the game exciting for them. It’s less structured than a war game. They had to think more on their feet, rather fall back to Roman strategy that’d been engrained in the heads of the Legionnaires.

Nico steps into the shadows as a myrmeke skitters past him. The giant ant—the size of a full-grown dog—pays no attention to him as it trails towards its giant ant hill.

Another follows.

And then another.

Nico halts—watching as the myrmekes—at least half a dozen—charge through the length of the forest.

Which means nothing good.

He pushes thoughts of Capture the Flag to the back of his mind and shadowtravels to the ant hill, the worry building in his stomach. A swarm of myrmekes meant they found something good—something shiny to eat, or a camper to hold hostage. Nico knows better than to be the second one.

His heart drops as he finds where the myrmekes are swarming. “ _Jace!_ ”

In the center of the arena is the blond son of Hades—who stares up at Nico, bewildered.

There’s no time to move.

The myrmekes attack.

*

The celebration winds down eventually. If the Fifth Cohort’s standing was as rocky as it was in Jason’s own universe, he knows it means a lot to them to have come this far. There’s an air of pride to the Fifth Cohort—not just for their senior centurion and ex-praetor, but as a whole. No _leaders_ amongst a team—but a _pack_ , like Lupa taught him.

Plus—nothing beats the way Praetor Nico is grinning. Jason’s only seen it a handful of times—back when his own Nico and he would team up for Capture the Flag since their cabins were so small.

He misses it. A lot.

“I’ve _heard_ you fought well.” Thalia slings an arm around Jason—and his chest blooms. “Never thought I’d actually get to see it in person.”

Jason can’t even _begin_ to describe what fighting alongside Thalia is like. What being able to share _this_ part of his life with her is like.

“Gotta say—” Roman Percy slings an arm around the left of Jason, his lips curling into an appreciative smirk as Praetor Nico walks towards him. “—I see it, Neeks. Your boyfriend fought well.”

Praetor Nico’s smile fades ever-so slightly into exasperation—and he shoots the son of Neptune a look.

“Um—” Jason interjects, and he holds out a hand. “Not his boyfriend.”

Unfortunately. Though—Jason decides not to linger on that thought. He looks to Praetor Nico’s face to gauge the other son of Jupiter’s reaction—and finds the gaze elsewhere. Azure eyes suddenly darken, and Praetor Nico’s gaze narrows.

“You’re bleeding,” he says.

“What?” Jason looks back down to his arm—where Mike Kahale had cut him—and he blinks. “Oh—yeah. I am—”

Praetor Nico grips his wrist gently and pulls it over. Still, Jason yelps at the touch as he comes down from the high of their victory. Praetor Nico’s gaze raises, his expression dim, and his lips curling into a grimace. He drops his grip—but his hands hover around Jason’s forearm.

“Sorry,” Praetor Nico mutters. “This isn’t usually my area of expertise.”

“No—it’s fine,” Jason reassures—but he finally gets a look at the wound himself.

He’s shocked that he didn’t feel it before.

The cut is deep—from the edge of his wrist down to the joint of his elbow. Jason’s arm suddenly throbs. With the high of battle slowly fading, Jason tries to move his wrist. His fingers are _swollen_ and _pounding_ , and a sharp pain shoots up his arm as he tries to rotate his hand.

There’s blood spilling. A lot of it.

Jason blinks, and the last of his smile fades. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Thalia squeezes his shoulder. Hard. Suddenly that feels numb, too.

“Looks like it’s still bleeding,” Thalia says—and her own excitement has faded. “Let’s get you to the infirmary, Jace. The healers will fix you right up.”

His arm hurts. And yet—numb, as Jason tries to touch it with his other hand.

“Jace?” Thalia repeats, and her voice snaps him out of it.

“Yeah,” Jason breathes. He snaps out of his thoughts. “Healers. Got it.”

Everything else suddenly happens in a quick blur. Jason doesn’t know when—but Praetor Nico discarded of his purple cloak and bundled it over his arm. They make it to the infirmary in no time through shadowtravel. Thalia’s hand is on his shoulder—his left one, he has to keep reminding himself. The one he’s used to holding his sword with.

“Keep putting pressure on it,” Beth instructs. He can’t bring himself to move, until she’s applying the pressure for him.

When did she get here?

When did they get to the infirmary?

“I can’t feel it,” Jason admits. He tries to flex his fingers—which have swollen to the size of sausages. He swallows hard—and that feels difficult, too. “Is—is that bad?”

He didn’t feel it when Mike Kahale sliced his arm with a sword.

He—he didn’t feel the arrows in him, either, when Caligula shot him.

“Jason,” Praetor Nico says. “Jason, you’re shaking. Drink some water.”

Jason doesn’t see water. His gaze is fixated on the royal hue of Praetor Nico’s purple cloak—and how the red of his own blood is pooling against the fabric. “It’s still bleeding.”

“Yeah,” Thalia tells him—and she gives his shoulder yet another squeeze. “The doctor will probably have to stitch it up. That cut was pretty bad. Kahale can go pretty hard during the games.”

Jason looks up to her—to the ire on her face and the way Praetor Nico is biting his thumb. They stare down at him and the wadded cloak—so casually, compared to the throbbing in Jason’s veins.

“It’s still bleeding,” Jason repeats—and he doesn’t think they get it. They don’t understand the numbness coursing through his arm, or the throbbing in the joints of his bones, or how swollen his hand feel. They don’t—they don’t see him trying to move his wrist and choking back a pained cry.

Nico and Thalia look at each other, puzzled. Jason thinks Roman Percy, Reyna, and Beth might be somewhere in the infirmary—in the hospital or whatever—but he stares at Nico and Thalia now. He needs Nico and Thalia to understand, _now._

They get called into a small room. Thalia guides Jason to a seat—and delicately, the doctor unfurls the wadded cloak around Jason’s arm.

He wants to puke when he sees his arm. His stomach rots.

Blood. So much blood, coating his arm in caked layers and still oozing from the slit across Jason’s arm that almost cut through bone. HIs hand is a blistering red. His wrist throbs—his shoulder throbs, and his arm feels gone.

He didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel the sword go through him.

He didn’t feel Caligula’s spear, either.

“They got you good,” the Apollo veteran says as she inspects his arm. “We’ll have to get this cleaned and stitched back up. With luck and time, it’ll heal nicely.”

Silence.

“It’s,” Jason breathes, his own voice shaky at his throat, “still bleeding.”

“Jason,” Praetor Nico says gently behind him. “She said she can fix it.”

She can’t.

“But it’s gone,” Jason insists—and he touches his forehead. “I—he hit me in the arm. Both arms.”

There was a lot of blood back then, too. But Jason—Jason hadn’t felt it. He was trying to keep Percy from getting hurt by Octavian. He was trying to get Apollo, Meg, and Piper _away_ from Caligula.

He hadn’t felt it.

But there’s blood. So much blood.

It _hits_ him. Hard—like the spear in his chest. Harder, like that second puncture.

“He struck me in the chest,” Jason whispers—and he trembles. He _feels_ himself shaking out of fear, out of pain—and the bitter end finally strikes him in the head. “He killed me.”

Jason died.

It wasn’t just a sword through him like with Michael Varus. It wasn’t just a _brick_ to the head, or a cyclops hanging him over a factory. Jason _died._ He felt a spear _drive_ through his chest, through his heart—and felt the overwhelming poison of imperial gold through his veins.

It tore through his heart—and Caligula’s arrows pierced through him in an angry blast. He should have felt pain and panic and anguish and fear—

—all of the things that he feels now, as he’s shaking at his seat in this tiny infirmary room, trying to figure out why Mike Kahale’s sword didn’t hit him with that pain either. Why it _bothers_ him so much.

Because it could’ve been worse.

It _has_ been worse.

Warm tears splatter the open wound across the length of Jason’s arm. He’s too distraught to think about it. Too distraught to realize they’re his own.

Thalia touches a tissue to his face. “Jason—”

“Thalia.” Jason’s voice shakes. His arm shakes, his body shakes. “I. I died.”

Her hands freeze over his cheekbones—and he catches glance at Praetor Nico behind her stunned. His arm bleeds—but so do his eyes, with hot, searing tears.

He hadn’t seen Thalia in over a year—not since before his sixteenth birthday. He left Nico for Pasadena. He left _everything_ that made him happy back in Camp Halfblood. Jason left his home, for a prophecy. Jason—

Jason died. He isn’t supposed to be alive. This isn’t _his_ Thalia, or _his_ Nico, or _his_ Fifth Cohort—the one where he felt isolated more than he ever made friends. This isn’t the life after the war with Gaea that he knew. Not the reprieve that he so desperately wanted, instead of getting shipped off to Edgarton Day and Boarding School after _months_ of failed attempts at finding Leo.

This isn’t his life.

He traded that away the moment he got stabbed.

He died.

He—

“I never got to see you again,” Jason whispers—and a lump swells in his throat. “Either of you. I—I…”

Jason died.

He traded in what little happiness he _could_ find in his universe for death—and suddenly, everything he handed over to the Fates lays bare in front of him—his friendship with Percy, an equal who understood the pain of leadership. His friendship with Frank, who was sculpted and molded into a better leader for New Rome than Jason could’ve ever dreamed. Piper and Leo—who saw past that miserable existence in New Rome. His big sister Thalia—who was finally a _connection_ and _family_ for Jason after fifteen years, even if she left.

Nico, who never left. Who stayed, because Reyna and he urged him to. Because _Jason_ urged him to.

“I didn’t want to die,” Jason murmurs—and the tears spill—moreso than the blood. They trickle down his cheeks and spill down his face like the relentless hurricane garnered by Percy and him. The fear _courses_ through him, with the sickening realization—and Jason’s throat burns as he sobs.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to find his best friend, to hang out with the people on the Argo II who treated him like an equal rather than a _prince-in-waiting_ , to spend more time with Thalia and—go after Nico.

Jason wanted his happiness.

He wanted to be _happy._

“I didn’t want to die.” Jason gasps with the burning epiphany—and nothing makes sense anymore. The tears spill, his brow furrowed with such frustration that it hurts. His head pounds—and so does his arm as the doctor tries to calm him down. “I—I didn’t want to die, Thalia, I’m—I’m dead…”

She holds him. The trembling doesn’t stop under her grip—but it wavers, under the embrace of the sister he so desperately called out for at the age of two.

“Hey,” she whispers to him—and her own voice is strained. “Hey, I’m here.”

“I _died_ ,” Jason repeats, and— _gods._ He was never going to get this again. He was never going to have a chance to see his sister again. He raises his head to a startled Praetor Nico—because Nico was right—he’s always right. It wasn’t an _if_ of when his death would hit him—but a _when._

And the realization hurts far worse than the spear.

Jason finally found a family, and within a matter of seconds, it slipped between his fingers.

Praetor Nico holds him too. Despite the line in the sand—the one that dictated where _Jace_ ended and _Jason_ began, Praetor Nico holds him from the other side, his grip tight.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “But we’re going to fix you up now.”

They’re crying, too. For him.

Jason breathes—a hard and painful the gasp—into his lungs to remind this body that it’s _not_ dead. It’s _not_ as battered as the one that was left in Caligula’s wake.

After what seems like hours—the stitchwork is complete. The doctor bandages him up with gauze—until every trickle of blood has ceased, and every tear has halted.

She gives him ambrosia bars and nectar to help numb the pain. His head is numb—but the first time in eternity, Jason can breathe. He holds the nectar drink in his free hand and tries to stop the trembling in his other.

In a moment of respite, Thalia and Nico are still holding onto him.

“Jason,” Praetor Nico whispers quietly, “you don’t have to fight any more if you don’t want to.”

Jason looks up to him from the stool—but his throat is sore. Thalia squeezes his shoulder next.

“You could stay, baby brother,” she whispers in his other ear. “You don’t have to go back. You don’t have to die again.”

The nectar drink is warm at the back of his throat—and he finds himself considering it.

*

Nico slips into the shadows and appears at Jace’s feet, sword in hand. The mandibles of the myrmekes suddenly click together, and they stand on their hind legs—the stench of the precious metal of Nico’s blade enticing.

“Get back,” Nico orders—

And a lead myrmeke launches at him.

“Hey now—” Before Nico can protest, Jace yanks Nico off the ground—gracefully dodging one of the giant insects as is it torpedoes towards them. The lead myrmeke lands in the swarm behind it, and Nico finds himself being held dearly, body up from the giant ants.

He blinks, nestled unnecessarily between Jace’s arms and sword tucked between his fingers. All adrenaline suddenly leaves him.

The swarm of ants chitter, and two more stand on their back legs in preparation to attack. With their abdomens to the ground, they come up to Jace’s shoulder, making rude gestures with their front legs. Another one launches.

“Jace,” Nico says, as he regains his bearings, “we gotta go—”

Finally, he catches a glimpse of something in Jace’s other hand. A bag of sugar cubes.

The myrmekes are clattering again, mandibles oozing with deadly poison—but instead of attacking, they skitter about with anticipation, making a strange sound from the back of their throats. All eyes are on the bag of sugar cubes in Jace’s hand.

“You’ll get your turn,” Jace reassures them—and suddenly Nico is at a loss for words.   
  


He looks at Jace’s expression. As bewildered as he was before when Nico called his name, Jace looks perplexed as best while the myrmekes paw at them. It’s closer than Nico ever expected to be—close enough to see the lines in Jace’s face and the frown across those pale lips. The shadows enhance the chiseled length of Jace’s jaw—and there’s just the lightest freckle tucked in the corner of his eye. Nico’s throat dries.

“You okay?” Jace asks him—as if nothing’s out of the blue. As if there _aren’t_ at least a dozen ants swarming them in anticipation for sugar. “Nico?”

His dark eyes flit down to inspect him more carefully, blond hair falling into his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be in the infirmary,” Nico blurts out—and the red flutters in his cheeks once his dignity catches up with him.

Jace blinks, as puzzled as before. “I went on a walk.”

“Into an _anthill_?”

“Well, yeah.” Jace stares at him, evidently still confused by his words. “Hold on.”

Nico opens his mouth to protest—but then Jace shifts an arm and throws the bag of sugar cubes towards the gigantic anthill. The myrmekes chitter with delight. Then, in one giant group, they scatter after the sweet food source. The myrmekes disappear into the giant mound, and Nico forces himself to keep his eyes open—unless he wants to confuse it as some fever dream.

“The Queen will be happy,” Jace remarks—which feels as casual as Jason commenting on how cloudy the day will be. There’s a small ripple in the way Jace moves—and Nico realizes that the blond son of Hades’s grip on him is still firm.

Red flourishes in Nico’s face. “Please let go of me.”

Jace blinks, evidently confused by his words—then his own cheeks seem to dust with a sheepish pink. “Oh—sorry. Habit.”

_Habit_? Nico can’t even get the question to make it to his mouth. Jace slides him back to the ground—and Nico staggers to find his footing.

A myrmeke squeals at the edge of the forest, then serpentines towards them to nuzzle its face in Jace’s shin.

Nico’s seen odd things. He’s known for them—and Will never failed to point out these strange occurrences. Communing with the dead. Obsessively learning ghost stories. Speaking to mole people.

This, though—the way Jace drops to the ground to scratch the myrmeke’s butt like the end of a cat—is very different. The way the myrmeke vibrates with delight—then rolls onto its back, all six legs in the air like a satisfied puppy is _very_ different.

“You missed out on the sugar cubes, buddy,” Jace says—with no caution towards the giant ant that wriggles like an excited dog. The myrmeke cranes its head—and slowly, engulfs Jace’s hand.

Nico chokes on his disbelief, readying his sword to tear the creature from the inside out. Jace’s hand flies to Nico’s ankle, stopping him. “Jace—the mandibles are _poisonous._ ”

Jace looks back up to him, his pale blond hair fluttering in his face. The hue of his eyes is unpoised—almost boyish, and the corner of his lip rises into a smile. A tiny rivet appears at his cheek.

“It won’t hurt me,” Jace reassures.

There’s a long, suckling sound of the myrmeke around his hand. Once every trace of sugar is gone from Jace’s fingers, it releases its mandibles. With one disappointed chatter, it scuttles back to the rest of its colony.

Nico pulls his helmet off to take in the sight. His sword is at his side, flabbergasted.

“Cabin Nine used to let me take scrap metal to their colony once a month,” Jace explains. His arm is drenched.

“You just shoved your hand in its mouth,” Nico mutters faintly. He stares at the liquid trickling from Jace’s hand. The other demigod just gives a casual shake. All of Jace’s fingers are still intact—not one nail missing. “And you’re _okay._ ”

Jace stares at him quizzically. Nico doesn’t understand why.

“That poison should’ve killed you,” Nico persists. “At the very least it should have melted your _arm_ off.”

This time, the realization dawns upon Jace, and he blinks. As he wipes the excess poison on his person, the tail of his orange shirt melts with the acidity.

“I don’t really feel pain,” Jace admits. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” Nico repeats.

As he stares, Jace doesn’t looks as confident as before—but more self-conscious. Jace’s free hand slowly raises to the back of his neck, and he looks as reserved as he was before the fight started.

And it dawns on Nico. His face morphs in awe. “You have the curse.”

Jace’s demeanor twists into a light grimace—but he doesn’t deny it.

The Curse of Achilles. One of the most powerful things that a demigod could have in their arsenal—with the blessing of invulnerability and the gift of bringing a demigod to the zenith of their powers.

Nico suddenly feels twelve again, researching every scroll and communing with every spirit to understand every pro and con for Percy. He stares at Jace now with staggering disbelief—wondering how this demigod—this child of the Big Three—could have _possibly_ received this curse. His mind does somersaults as it tries to piece together a story.

“You bathed in Styx,” Nico surmises. “You did it for the war against Kronos.”

Jace looks uncomfortable—but he nods.

“But—you’re—you’re my Jason’s age.” Nico’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to make sense of it. “Percy defeated Kronos here.”

“Did he?” the corner of Jace’s mouth lifts, though nothing changes in the uneasiness of his eyes. “He’s Roman in my world.”

Nico stares at Jace. “What about Thalia?”

“Roman,” Jace says again, and he folds his arms over his chest. Part of his sleeve has melted from the acidity of the myrmeke’s mouth, showing the smooth contours of his biceps. “So are you.”

Nico searches the trenches of his mind. “What about Hazel?”

Jace’s smile saddens and he shakes his head. “She didn’t wake up until after the war.”

“But—” Nico’s face scrunches as he tries to wrap his mind around this truth. A _Roman_ Percy and a _Roman_ Thalia, and a _Roman_ him. Hazel mentioned they were still related and close in Jace’s world—but as much as they’ve filled him in on Jason’s death, they haven’t asked about Jace’s world. “Zeus and Poseidon broke the oath. Dad brought Bianca and me here.”

Jace’s demeanor shifts with that fact, the surprise evident, and then he slowly shakes his head. “Dad was the only one who broke the oath.”

Nico stares at Jace as though he’s grown a second head, trying to make sense of this fact. After all these years, he knows his father’s army helped turned the tide of the war. Thalia—despite Nico’s qualms with Artemis—brought the huntresses to help in the Battle of Manhattan. Percy had the Curse—but many hands went into supporting his victory.

“Who helped you in the war?” Nico finds himself asking. He’s fixated on it—on all the little nuances that have driven Jace on this path.

Jace’s expression tightens, and for the first time, his gaze falls, unable to look Nico in the eye. He’s quiet. “More than needed. And probably still less than what we should’ve had.”

Nico stares at him, trying to dissect the words. “Dad—Hades. He at least sent an army to help—didn’t he?”

Jace shifts between his feet, evidently finding the dirt at his boots more interesting. “Dad gave me his blessing for Styx.”

“But his army.” Nico frowns—and all discussion about myrmekes is forgotten. He sheathes his sword instead, trying to assess everything about the Jason Grace in front of him—the somber eyes, the quiet smile and demure stature despite having the wingspan that any soldier would envy. “Kronos would’ve had the upper hand without Dad’s army. Why wouldn’t you have—”

“I didn’t ask for an army,” Jace cuts him off, and he looks tentative to continue. “ _Just_ …his blessing. I didn’t want anything else from him.”

Again, Nico stares at Jace in disbelief—at the tiny way Jace is trying his best not to grimace, and how his hand remains clamped at the back of his neck. It’s a brief instance—one Nico wouldn’t have noticed if he was deep in thought—

—but this is a strange thought, too. Jason Grace. Savior of Olympus. Slayer of Kronos. Son of the King of the Dead, who wanted bare minimum from his father.

It sounds too similar to Jason Grace, Hero of Olympus, Slayer of Krios, and Golden Boy Son of Jupiter—who avoided praetorship as long as he could. Who left New Rome the moment he was given a choice.

Nico used to envy that. In a matter of one lightning strike, he went from being a little boy in Venice with his big sister and mother to the grim son of Hades, who lost his family and a whole century. No one welcomed death the way they welcomed the good fortune of a son of Jupiter.

The way people _smiled_ at Jason before he could ever say a word was the opposite of the way people nervously interacted with Nico. Nico had to earn their trust, while Jason often made strides to assure that trust was warranted. Nico learned early on about the trust and trickery of ghosts—the hard way.

He stares at this Jace now—the one that resembles his best friend in so many different ways. Even with Jace before him, Nico struggles to define their Golden Boy with this Son of Hades—but the similarities are startling.

“Who took care of you, Jason?” Nico asks, and he worries for the answer.

“The satyrs.” Jace pulls his hand away from his neck. His gaze falls—and there’s a bit of… _something_ in his voice. Anger, maybe. Frustration. But much like the scar across Jason’s lips, it’s an old and faded wound. “My Camp Halfblood wasn’t as big on the _Hades_ lineage as they were on the _chosen one_ part.”

Nico’s eyebrows knit together, and his jaw tightens. He boils at the thought of what entails.

“I…uh.” Jace shakes his head softly. “I don’t—my life’s not like that anymore. None of it. Not even the part about Dad.” 

Jace stares back at Nico—at the black Camp Halfblood t-shirt adorned with a skeletal pegasi, and the skull-shaped helmet tucked beneath his arm, and the ring secured around Nico’s finger. There’s a flicker for some reason—but Nico can’t place what it is. More discomfort? Guilt?

And—Nico is back to staring at Jace, too. At the tarnished Camp Halfblood t-shirt, bare neck, and dark joggers and boots. If he hadn’t spent the last day and a half with this son of Hades, Nico could almost believe this boy’s godly parent was someone else. Nico tries to work out the rest of the details in his head—but each time, he likes it less.

“How long were you at Camp Halfblood?” Nico asks. If Jace had camp beads, it’d be easier to piece together—but he doesn’t.

“Fourteen years.”

“And you’re the only one,” Nico continues. “None of the other gods broke the oath.”

Maybe it’s his choice of words. Jason looks sadder as the corner of his lip sadly lifts—and then he nods in agreement. “I was the only one.”

Nico stares. Sure—Percy and he weren’t close. Thalia and him even less so. But even at the age of ten, he knew the weight of that prophecy—on top of trying to figure out if he was in the right century, if he could find his sister, and if liking boys was okay. No one shut up about it. Nico’s never-ending misery and anger took a backseat to prophecies like this. Jace bore that prophecy alone.

And—given how the last prophecy went for Jason, Nico is concerned.

“Did everything turn out okay?” he finds himself asking. His hand curls under his helmet and he stares at Jace. “Did—did everyone make it?”

It’s a dumb question to ask. Nico knows that not everyone makes it through a war. Judging by the grim look on Jace’s face, he knows not everyone did.

“No,” Jace admits, and his voice is quiet. “A lot of lives were lost.”

“Were you in the prophecy of seven?” Nico continues, and his mind just makes laps through the events of the last several years—to find Jason’s place in all of it and understand where Jace’s pieces fit in. His throat grows tight. “Did Caligula…did you have to deal with him too? Did he threaten you? Did he try to kill you, too—”

“Nico,” Jace interjects once again. He places a hand over Nico’s shoulder, the weight of his hand snapping Nico out of his list of inquiries. “I’m fine. I told you before—those days are long behind me.”

Nico stares back at Jace, caught in a stupor. His heart is beating in his chest before he notices it—and Jace is much closer before he realizes it. The panic is coursing through his shaky hands. Nico reminds himself to breathe, and he shudders as he exhales.

“Sorry, I-I just.” Nico’s throat dries. He blinks away the new tears prickling at his eyes. “I just can’t stand the thought of you dying again.”

Jace’s smile wavers, and he stares back at Nico in surprise. His expression softens. He _looks_ at Nico, the same way as the night before. When Nico mentioned Tartarus.

A cheer erupts behind them, deep in the forest. Nico can vaguely make out the sound of someone’s voice—Percy, maybe?—and finds reprieve in the fact no one else is dumb enough to skirt the border of the myrmeke colony.

“Looks like the game’s over,” Jace whispers. “Why don’t we meet back up with the rest of the campers?”

He pulls his hands away from Nico’s shoulders, and the gentle graze almost aches. Nico’s gaze is at his feet—but slowly, he nods.

They take the long way back from the forest. Nico has no doubt the winning team will spend the rest of the evening conducting bragging rights. Their walk is also silent. He unclasps one of the straps over his shoulder to rid himself of some unnecessary tension—and each step seems slow and agonizing.

“A lot of stuff happened during that first war,” Jace says finally. A grimace pulls at his lips—but only for a moment. “I wasn’t the best leader.”

Nico could laugh. He smiles instead—but when it comes to Jason, it always wanes with a bitter taste. “Jason kept the Argo crew together after Percy and Annabeth fell into Tartarus.”

Jason kept _him_ together after Cupid. He decides not to mention that part. Jace’s gaze flits over at him, evidently finding yet another difference in this universe versus his own—but doesn’t comment on it. He chuckles instead—a quiet, uncomfortable thing that seems more aimed at himself than anything else.

“I never wanted to be leader,” Jace confesses quietly, like admitting a sin. “I was afraid I’d screw up somehow.”

“So was he,” Nico finds himself saying. “He never did.”

“I did.”

They halt. Nico cocks his head to the side—in order to take in the sight of Jace. There’s an old distress in Jace’s eyes. He curls his hands over his torso to soothe a quiet rumble in his fingers—and slowly, he turns to meet Nico’s gaze. There’s a quiet storm in Jace’s eyes—the first since his arrival—but it isn’t because of this world. Nico feels a tug in his own stomach—because he thinks he’s seen it in Jason’s plenty.

A smile etches across Jace’s face. It’s slow—but sad. Despite the topic of his own death in the last few days, Jace nervously mourns for those from his own world. “I, uh. Sorry—I still have a hard time talking about it, sometimes.”

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. He stares back at Jace, and the concern suddenly blooms in his chest. He’s never seen it before—a nervous Jason. Not for something like this.

“You don’t have to,” Nico murmurs—because a nervous Jason worries him. Jason was confident enough to die—but this one is still very much alive.

Jace’s expression doesn’t change much. “The satyrs took care of me for a little while. The Furies are the ones who brought me to camp. I’ve…always felt more comfortable with them. The monsters.”

Nico blinks. “Like the myrmekes.”

“Yeah. Like the myrmekes.” The corner of Jace’s lips lift fondly, and Nico hopes the darkness hides the pink of his face. “Chiron was nervous about the troubles the Furies would cause at camp. He thought they’d bring misfortune.”

“The only thing the Furies bring are my father’s bathrobes,” Nico grumbles—and he frowns. Again, as he looks up, he notices the sweet mirth of Jace’s smile. He fiddles with one of his belt loops, and his cheeks tingle. But—the words don’t go unheard. He does the math in his head. “Fourteen years—you’ve been at Camp Halfblood since the age of two. Like Jason at Camp Jupiter.”

Jace nods.

And again, Nico feels his chest tighten. “You’ve known about the prophecy since the _age_ of two.”

“Yeah.”

“It was only you.” Nico turns his gaze back to Jace. “It was only ever going to be you.”

The other corner of Jace’s lips lift, as pensive as it’s been the other time. Nico is reminded of what Jace told them yesterday. How he was _used_ to the gods meddling with a life.

“Then no wonder you won the war,” Nico deduces. “Fourteen years under Chiron and the Curse of Achilles. Percy only had four years.”

For all that he knew about their own Jason—the boy who studied old Roman emperors for _fun_ —Nico can’t imagine a more perfect candidate to take down Kronos. Someone who was concise and succinct and put care into every decision. Even when it came to his own death.

Jace seems to pick up on that word, even if Nico doesn’t say it aloud. Perfect.

“Yeah,” Jace agrees quietly. “Everything he taught me worked perfectly.”

The look on his face implies otherwise. “So what went wrong?”

Jace opens his mouth to speak—but slowly closes it. He waits a heartbeat before answering, the word still locked in the back of his throat.

“Too many things,” Jace settles on finally. “Camp Halfblood is…it’s good. When you’re not one of us.”

“A child of the Big Three.”

“A child of Hades,” Jace corrects. His expression is dim—but the precision of his words makes the goosebumps rise across Nico’s forearms. Charcoal eyes look back to him, the tired fear evident. “They didn’t want to focus on who my dad was. All of those values that they teach you here—valiance and nobility and the glory of being a hero—I’d been hearing it before I was even potty trained. That was—it’s still my core. I didn’t have much to my name, and camp didn’t care for what I _did_ have.”

Nico’s hands curl at his sides. “I can imagine.”

He knows all too well the fearful looks that people would give him. That _Will_ would give him from time-to-time, despite the months of dating. At the age of ten when death took Bianca, his father’s realm was the only thing that consoled Nico, too. For all the fear Nico told Piper came with being the son of Hades, no one else wanted him. Or understood him.

He tries to imagine the same for Jason—whose life was only ever an appeasement for Juno. Who was named in her honor, and had those same qualities—nobility, valiance, honor, and glory—engrained in him as a small child. Nico thinks it’s easier to associate those things with Jason than the godly lineage. For all the strides Jason made to be his friend, it was never Jupiter that impressed Nico.

Those traits were important at both camps—and it only made sense for _Jason_ to be able to tie those values between the Greeks and Romans.

Jace touches the back of his neck again. “Chiron talked about how hard being a demigod could be. And how terrible a child of Hades could be. It…uh. It pushed me harder.”

“To prove you’re a _good_ son of Hades.”

“To prove I could be good despite being a son of Hades.” Jace look at Nico again—at his black ensemble. There’s no ill-will there—but Nico suddenly feels self-conscious. “I…pushed myself hard. Maybe harder than I should have to drive the point home, and in the end—” His voice grows quiet. “—a lot of people suffered at my hands.”

Nico tries to imagine a Jason who would cause someone to suffer. Can’t. But Jace describes it palpably, with his voice laced with that same sense of shame.

“I…kept trying to be that hero that Chiron said Greek heroes should be. A _good_ one. By the time Gaea became a problem in my world, that…that almost killed me.” Another laugh falls from Jace’s lips, quiet and remorseful. “I never thought I’d end up in a world where that attitude _did_ kill me.”

Nico’s throat dries, and he blinks away the beginning of tears.

“I was miserable,” Jace finishes softly. “For a long time.”

“But you’re happy now,” Nico interjects, and his eyebrows knit together. “You—you said so. And you don’t fight anymore.”

The corner of Jace’s lips twitch and he nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m happy now. It took me a while to get there, but. I am.”

Nico stares at Jace. For the first time this evening, that smile isn’t tense. It’s truthful and sincere despite the dim light in his eyes. And his heart hurts as he tries to remember what Jason’s last smile was like. “Do you think Jason was miserable?”

Jace contemplates his words. “I don’t know if he ever considered it.”

“Why not?”

“Because being miserable doesn’t help save the world.” Jace shakes his head. “He probably never allowed himself to feel that way. Not while there were more important things going on.”

The words are so callous that they feel like a slap to the face. Worst of all, they’re not even aimed towards Nico—but at Jace. There isn’t hesitation or reluctance in Jace’s voice. The words are poignant, and—as somber as his demeanor reflects, Jace’s tone is incisive. It hurts to hear.

“I hate that.” The anger boils in the pit of Nico’s stomach.

Jace turns his head back, his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I said I hate that,” Nico repeats, and his hands coil into fists. “You should’ve allowed yourself to _feel_ , Jason. To _love_ or _hate_ or feel miserable. I—I _hate_ that. You never should’ve stifled yourself. You—you should’ve talked to someone.”

The frustration is burning in Nico’s stomach, and he could puke in his rage. There aren’t a lot of people left in Nico’s life—either because of distance or solemn circumstance or choice—but Jason was an important one in Nico’s heart. He _helped_ with _that_ part of Nico’s life when Nico wanted nothing more than to cling to the shadows.

Jace’s gaze flickers, and again—he offers the same soft smile as before. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

“Jason will never hear it from me,” Nico mutters—and his chest aches again. Jason was never going to hear how important he was to other people. He was never going to hear how his feelings mattered, how much he _mattered_ to other people. How much he mattered to _Nico._

And it makes so much sense to him, that regardless of how Jason and Piper’s breakup unfolded, the heartbreak didn’t matter to Jason. Not in comparison to saving Piper or helping Apollo alongside his quest. It just—it didn’t matter.

It just adds more salt to the wound in Nico’s heart—the one where he ran every _what-if_ that drove him crazy like he warned Piper and Percy. No matter what factors changed, Jason wasn’t going to let someone else die. In Jason’s eyes, his own life mattered _less._

The words take the strength from Nico’s legs. He folds onto a nearby stump as the wind escapes his lungs, and he stares at the ground.

“Sorry,” he breathes, and he cradles his head in his hands. He can’t elaborate—but it’s just too much all over again.

“It’s fine,” Jace reassures—and Nico can see those dark boots as they saunter over to him. A hand reaches out—but it’s as reluctant before. Jace falls to a crouch instead. “It’s…okay, Nico.”

“No, it isn’t.” Nico keeps his gaze down, so he doesn’t cry. “He told me he was my friend and he just—he _left._ He didn’t tell me _anything_ about his fate. He wouldn’t come to me even when I _tried_ to summon him, in—in Tartarus. I don’t _know_ what he wants because he never thought it was important to _tell_ me. I—I thought I did. I shared everything with him. I—I told him _everything._ I—I trusted him with everything, I just—”

“Hey.” Jace grabs his hand, when Nico’s throat starts to burn, and his shoulders tremble. He stares up at Nico. “I’m here.”

Nico stares back, his head pounding and lips unable to form into any semblance of a smile. His eyes burn again—because that’s all he wanted to hear down in Tartarus when he searched. When he thought he _saw_ Jason’s ghost from the corners of his eyes and desperately tried to find him.

“Why couldn’t he talk to me?” Nico asks, his voice strained.

Was he any better than Piper, if Jason couldn’t voice his thoughts to Nico, either? Were any of them?

Jace’s grip loosens against Nico’s own hand. Nico bites the inside of his mouth and instead stares at Jace’s fingers. They’re the right width and length—but the callouses aren’t nearly as rough as they were on Jason’s. Nico’s sure they were stark and clean before the myrmekes—which evoked a much easier smile than everything else about this universe.

“It’s not just about Jason wanting to talk to you,” Jace says finally. “It’s about him realizing he was allowed to talk about it, too.”

As he looks to Jace, though—there isn’t a begrudging frown or hatred. Jason was always far too forgiving to have that about them. Jason never bit back in irate words and sarcasm the way Percy did when things frustrated him. No—that ire simmered in the sad hue of his eyes instead. This Jason stares at Nico, his gaze only filled with worry despite Nico’s current misgivings.

A familiar feeling nags at Nico’s chest again—the same one that’d yanked at him yesterday when they all gathered in the Big House.

“Did you never feel like you could talk to me?” Nico blurts out, before he can help himself. “About your sexuality?”

Jace blinks. He stares at Nico, demeanor twisting with an almost uncharacteristic surprise.

And Nico’s cheeks burn—because it’s a question that’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long now. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t, I—” His throat feels tight. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, um. Sorry, I just didn’t expect this to come up.” Jace’s shift in tone just proves to be more embarrassing. The blond son of Hades’s cheeks dust pink, and he settles on the ground in front of Nico. There’s a give to his grip—but he doesn’t relinquish his hand over Nico’s. “I…never thought my sexuality was important.”

Nico stares at Jace. Hard. And his hands curl protectively in his lap. “It’s important. You’re important.”

Jace’s gaze raises back to him and there’s a pause—but otherwise, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, his expression changes. “What I mean is, I. I never thought I’d live long enough for it to matter. Or that I’d ever fall in love again.”

He raises his gaze, tentative—but Nico feels nauseous. His heart hurts.

“Oh,” is all Nico can offer, and he awkwardly pulls his hand away from Jace’s.

It _shouldn’t_ matter. He already said this _wasn’t_ their Jason.

But—hearing Jace talking about falling in love just…makes it hard to breathe.

His gaze falls—but Jace’s doesn’t. Jace’s eyes are still on him, and Nico can’t bring himself to say much else. But—then Jace’s next words _make_ him look.

“I know what you’re going through,” Jace says quietly. “Losing someone you were in love with, I mean.”

Nico’s heart wrenches. He _can’t_ find his next breath now—and his chest pounds. Nico moves his leg—for the sake of moving at all. The rest of him sits in shock.

“I—” he chokes. “I’m not—I’m not sure if I—I don’t…I don’t follow.”

Jace doesn’t give him room to dismiss it. Jason never did. Charcoal eyes raise to meet him—and they’re patient. They don’t push, they don’t insist—they just wait for Nico’s nerves to calm.

“I fell in love pretty early,” Jace confesses—and he uses the word again. _Love_ , so easily, after Nico told Piper how scary it could be. “A…Hermes boy. Luke? Luke Castellan?”

He raises his gaze curiously—and takes the look on Nico’s face as recognition over the name. Nico is dumbfounded.

“Yeah. Luke.” Jace’s voice shifts ever so slightly, wistful. “I was six when he came to camp. I…don’t think _anyone_ knew me better than Luke did. Not the satyrs. Not Beth.” A sad look overshadows his eyes. “Not Bianca.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrow—and a part of his brain jolts at her name.

“But,” Jace continues, “Luke was just… _grooming_ me for the war. He tried to fill me with hate, so I’d leave Camp Halfblood. So I would tear Olympus down brick-by-brick for him. I—I could have. I almost did.”

His demeanor twists with a shame that he’s apparently familiar with—and every word about Chiron and Alecto and Hades comes to the forefront of Nico’s mind.

“I,” Jace continues softly, “had to remind myself about the bad parts about him. Otherwise I would fall in love with the good parts all over again. The parts that listened to me.”

He stops for a moment, his gaze falling to his hands. Nico can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s afraid to ask.

“And when he left, I thought my heart had gone with him.” Jace inspects his fingers expectantly—as though something is supposed to happen. Nothing does. For as full of emotion as Jace’s voice is, he raises his gaze to Nico, and everything seems like a memory for a time before. “When I killed him, I thought my heart ended up in the Fields, too.”

Nico’s eyebrows knit together. He knows despite everything, Luke Castellan’s spirit ended up in Elysium before the son of Hermes chose reincarnation. “Asphodel?”

“Punishment.” Jace’s demeanor is morose. But he smiles through it. “But—he didn’t just take my heart with him—he took everything. My grievances. My emotions, my secrets…he talked me up and took it all.”

Jace’s expression dulls, looking far off into the horizon.

“I never thought I could open myself up to other people again. I didn’t think I was allowed to—not after how the war ended,” he says quietly, and this time, he thrums his fingers against his knee—the same nervousness reappearing from before. “If…I was going to die at the hands of someone I was in love with, I thought I’d be okay.”

Nico stares back at Jace, absorbing every word. He tries to imagine killing someone he loved as a sixteenth birthday present—driving a knife through Percy, or Will, or…or Jason. He can’t. Nico thinks back on all the ways he desperately tried to earn Percy’s trust.

He thinks about how quickly Will and he got together—and how their relationship diminished because of another boy. How no matter how everything should’ve felt so effortless, Will and he couldn’t fit together. Because Nico and Jason spent time getting to know each other long before Nico felt his heart skip a beat for the first time. It was _hard_ , to stay in a relationship with Will because that feeling wasn’t going to go away.

“Luke… _haunted_ me,” Jace continues, and he hesitates. “Even more so in Tartarus.”

Nico freezes. He meets Jace’s gaze—who waits for him. Who knew about Nico felt, the _moment_ he mentioned Tartarus yesterday. And Nico stares, his chest tightening with an upsetting need to protect Jace. “You went to Tartarus?”

“I went down there for the Doors,” Jace confirms. He heaves a sigh and rubs his eyes before glaring at his hands. “It…took a lot out of me. I had—I. I still have nightmares some nights.”

“Last night?”

Jace looks startled by his inquiry. He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t worry about it.”

For the first time, Nico examines Jace fully—the nervous way he fiddles with his hands and how soft the tenor of his voice is compared to Jason. Nico used to draw comparisons between his ex-boyfriend and his best friend. Will was always a healer first, and a fighter second. Jason only knew _how_ to fight. He _only_ knew Roman tradition—living, breathing the life of a demigod before he could form a full sentence.

This Jason is softer. But it’s an _earned_ softness, after enduring fourteen years under Camp Halfblood’s tutelage—to once again be raised as the perfect demigod, to either conquer over Kronos or die trying.

“You said you’re happy,” Nico finds himself saying. “You don’t fight anymore.”

Jace peers back at him and nods gently. “I don’t fight anymore.”

“Because of Luke?” Nico asks—and he stifles the thought that plagued him before Capture the Flag. If Jason stopped fighting—if he’d said _no_ , the way Percy did, he’d still be alive.

His heart goes to Jace with a painful ache—a boy who was spurned heartlessly and forced to slay someone he was in love with. Who was told at the age of two that his life was written and he was going to decide the fate of Olympus, either by slaying the boy he was in love with or die by his beloved’s hand.

Who was so _traumatized_ by that act—choosing between his duty and heart that he could no longer bear a sword.

Jace stares back at Nico—but it isn’t as solemn as before. Long ago, maybe it was—full of sadness that would’ve made Nico worry—but it’s one of peace. “He was a big reason why for a long time.”

“What’s the reason now?” Nico asks. His chest aches as an answer rests at the tip of his tongue. “Your boyfriend?”

“No. I do it for myself.” The corner of Jace’s lips etch into a smile—quiet, but firm. There’s relief brimming in his eyes. “He…helped me realize that was enough. That me wanting it is enough.”

The lightness of his voice makes Nico’s own chest heave. And again, he repeats, “You’re happy now.”

“Yeah. I am.” There’s finality in Jace’s voice. No hesitation—but the end of a satisfying breath or note.

Nico tries not to drown in it. “Jason was enough.”

Jace’s smile wanes into a pity that makes Nico’s stomach churn. “I’m sure he was.”

“I wish he knew he was enough,” Nico continues. His chest heaves, and his hands curl. “He was enough for me.”

The sadness swells in him again, and Nico tries his hardest to keep the grass withering at his feet. The bitter rage makes it crunch beneath his feet anyway—because he doesn’t think Jason knew he was enough for himself. Jace reaches out for him once more, giving Nico’s hand a soft squeeze.

Yesterday, Nico had pulled away from that grip. He was terrified of it after so many months living without it. Almost a year now, since Jason went off to Pasadena. But his own hand curls beneath Jace’s grip—who persists anyway, despite all of Nico’s warnings.

It's just… _so much_ like the Jason who insisted he take a risk.

“I think he’d want you to be enough for yourself.” And again, Jace’s eyes dim. They always seem to lead there, one way or another in conversation with Nico—like a quiet disappointment of sorts. Jace’s voice swells with concern. “Don’t…Please don’t go to Tartarus again, Nico. Not for me. Not for Jason. Just—”

His eyes fill with a moment’s anguish.

“—please don’t push yourself again. Not like that.” Jace’s eyes settle onto Nico again, his gaze glowing with a quiet plea.

“Yeah,” Nico says, and his throat dries. “I know. I—I have Hazel.”

Again, his stomach churns in bitter knots. Hearing Jace say _no_ is as good as knowing not to go back for Jason. He relishes in the gentle grip over his own hand, and the regret of not holding Jason’s hand long enough the first time. Nico wishes he sought Jason out _more_ the first time and that he reached out back then because he doesn’t want to let go of Jace’s hand now.

There’s a way that Jace’s gaze glints, as though Nico should have more—but he doesn’t say anything. Hazel is enough to keep him sane. Hazel should always be enough.

“You…don’t have to be in a relationship to be happy,” Jace starts slowly. He hesitates. “But…whenever you’re finally ready—if you and Will want to give it another try, I think he’s willing. He cares about you. A lot.”

Nico whips back to Jace. Jace stares back at him, his expression hard to decipher. It’s focused—but not quite at ease as before. A lump swells in Nico’s throat, and his gaze falls to his lap. “Would you’ve come back if I asked?”

Jace blinks. He pulls his hand away slowly, and his eyebrows contort together. Jace stares at him, evidently trying to process the change in subject.

It’s a long silence. Everything Jace told him runs through Nico’s mind—of feeling trapped at Camp Halfblood and trying to be the hero that was needed. Being miserable. Find a way _out_ of that misery, to be happy.

Jason never got that far. And he won’t. Nico can’t even find Jason’s soul after so many months of searching. Of telling himself not to search or to spiral.

“I can’t answer that,” Jace says quietly.

Nico hangs his head. He isn’t angry. “I figured as much.”

Jace never would’ve left in the first place.

Another _what-if_ that just ends with Nico feeling unsatisfied and heartbroken. He heaves a sigh and slowly gathers himself to his feet. The helmet feels heavy under his arm. “We should get back to camp. I—I said I would get back to your universe tonight.”

Jace stares at him—and it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. But slowly, he nods. “Okay.”

The rest of the walk is silent. Nico can feel Jace’s eyes raise to him with a quiet concern—but not much else is said. Nico tries to appreciate the quiet winter air and the candid skittering of peaceful monsters in the forest—but he can’t. Off in the distance, he can hear the chatter of the campfire—and Apollo’s ukulele.

Jace sidesteps him, the worry clear. “I can’t help but feel like I made things worse somehow.”

Nico doesn’t want to look him in the eye. He bites the inside of his mouth and tries to walk around Jace. “I’m fine.”

The other son of Hades—despite his peaceful nature, nimbly sidesteps him again. “But—Nico, you just…you don’t seem fine.”

“Jace, I’m fine.”

“But—”

“How do you expect me to act,” Nico snaps, “when you turn me down and tell me to move on in the same breath?”

Jace stares back at him, astonished—and Nico’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and rage. He wants to smack himself with his own helmet.

“Oh,” Jace says simply, and his hands falter before they can reach for Nico again. Pink dusts his cheeks. “Okay. I can see how I didn’t think that one through.”

Nico resists the urge to bury his face in snow. His helmet hangs heavily at his hand and he shakes his head. His throat constricts. “I told you, Jace. It’s—it’s _fine._ I’m glad that you’re happy in your universe.”

He just wishes they were happy _together._

“I’m glad,” Nico continues, his gaze at his feet, “that you’ve found someone that helps make you happy.”

Even if it isn’t him. Being in love with Jason is worse than having a crush on Percy—because even when Nico had a chance, he wasn’t who Jason wanted.

Jace reaches for his hand again—but this time, Nico shirks out of the way. He doesn’t want that contact again. Can’t, because it’ll leave him soon enough.

“I guess I didn’t explain myself well enough,” Jace whispers softly. “You and I were friends long before I fell in love, Nico. I like us. I—I wouldn’t change anything in the _world_ about us.”

Not a thing. Nico bites the inside of his other cheek, his hand curling beneath his helmet. “I get that.”

“And,” Jace continues, “you’re the first person to consider my happiness. Long before I ever did.”

Nico tries his best not to laugh bitterly about that. Of course there would be another universe where he was stupidly in love with Jason Grace and too frightened to act upon it. He stifles this thought—reminded again, that Jason isn’t his to keep. Jason never was.

“Let’s just not talk about this,” he says finally. Nico raises his gaze, eyebrows furrowed together and exasperated.

Jace’s own eyebrows knit together with a sympathetic worry—but it’s too much for Nico. Nico can’t bear to keep looking.

“Um,” Jace says, and he’s evidently still flustered. “Okay.”

Percy notices them first when they arrive at the campfire. He perks, covered head-to-toe in talcum powder and soot, grinning. “Nico! You totally missed it—we won!”

Nico surveys the small group huddled together. All eyes are fixated on the silhouette behind Nico. Jace’s. Leo and Piper are beside each other—evidently in the middle of a conversation. They both look back to the doppelganger of their best friend—then to Nico. He sees Hazel sparing him a quiet glance—in a continuing effort to make sure he’s here. That he’s okay.

“Dude,” Percy says—and he gets in Nico’s close proximity. “You hear me?”

Nico shirks out of Percy’s touch instinctively. “I heard you.”

“And where did you wander off?” Leo is at Jace’s side in an instant, his lips coiling into a different kind of smile.

Jace looks back at him—the flustered demeanor replaced with relief. “To feed the myrmekes.”

Leo laughs. “Very funny.”

Neither son of Hades laughs. Jace is smiling.

“Wait,” Leo says. “What?”

Nico could almost laugh at the blitheness of Jace’s smile. He was in disbelief, too. Instead, he notices how the rest of their small group gathers away from the campfire.

“I guess that’s it then,” Annabeth says quietly. “We should get our final goodbyes in.”

Even with the light of the hearth, everything feels dim. The mood suddenly drops, despite Apollo’s songs in the background. Piper’s demeanor is filled with sorrow. Leo’s elfish grin wanes. Hazel’s expression looks as somber as Nico’s feels—but he doubts she has the same heart ache.

“Tomorrow,” Jace suddenly says.

They all look to him—Nico included.

Jace’s own demeanor is candid. He looks around to their circle of demigods—and then his gaze falls to Nico in particular, despite the earlier embarrassment. Then, he looks back to Annabeth. “I don’t want Thalia and Reyna to waste a trip on me. I should see her.”

Annabeth’s gaze lights up, and she smiles. “Really?”

“Really.” Jace’s gaze flickers momentarily, and the edge of his own lips twitch. “I want to see her.”

“Dude!” Percy throws an arm around the other demigod. “A whole other day with you? That’s amazing!”

“We’ll have to milk tomorrow for all we can get, Jace.” Leo grins, and he ribs Jace. “And—probably get you a new shirt too, from the looks of it.”

“The myrmekes kind of ate this one.” Jace touches a ripple in the hem of his shirt, and the little holes from the backsplash of ant acid. “Sorry.”

Leo stares at him with dismay. “Again. What?”

“Hopefully they’ll get here early.” Annabeth’s smile is fuller as she and Percy look at each other.

“I guess I’ll take what I can get.” Jace smiles again—but it’s the same one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. As he looks back to Nico, Nico realizes there’s more to it. More worry, more concern.

As the hype dies down, Nico’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Tomorrow?” he echoes.

Despite the earlier dismissal, Jace’s lips stretch into a smile, the little rivets appearing in his cheeks once more. “We can try again whenever you’re ready.”

Nico swallows the lump in his throat and lets his gaze fall to his feet again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready. Not at this rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, guys! This will likely be the last update before the New Year! This one's full of angst, so I hope it keeps you satiated until 2021! I hope you guys are catching the parallels between our canon boys and the godswap boys, as writing those have been my favorite part! Thank you for reading and sticking with me through 2020 as I've written so much jasico!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Praetor Nico stares back at Jason, his eyebrows knitting together. His finger hooks between the beads on his bracelet. “What makes you think I couldn’t be happy with you?”
> 
> Jason’s smile aches, and he shakes his head sadly. “I was with Piper.”
> 
> “You mentioned you had broken up before Caligula.”
> 
> Jason shakes his head. “What good would it do to tell you that I’m in love with you when I knew I was going to die in the weeks to come?”

Sunlight teems through the bedroom window.

Jason stares up at the ceiling of Jace’s room—the dull white, decorated with little patches of stars. He stares at the bookshelf, where everything is immaculately placed, then at the notebooks stacked neatly on the desk to the left of him.

Slowly, he gets out of bed—and he yawns. Jason can’t remember the last time he woke up past sunrise.

A glass of nectar sits on the nightstand. Jason reaches over to touch it—and gets a better look at his arm—the one wound tightly beneath the gauze. He traces the length of the wound delicately with his fingers—

—and pulls his hand away, as he imagines Mike Kahale’s blade cutting through him. His hand flies to his chest instead—and he grimace, as he remembers Caligula’s spear.

Pain, and a lot of blood. Too much blood. His blood.

Jason pushes out of bed as his arm begins to throb and nestles it in front of him. Forces the memories away.

As he opens the door, two figures stand up from the couch. Thalia and Nico. In the corner, Jason catches sight of Beth in the kitchen, and Roman Percy sitting on a stool. Reyna is at the other end of the couch, her hand curled against Thalia’s arm.

They all look at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Morning. Didn’t expect to see all of you so early.”

It’s that feeling again—of everyone staring at him. This morbid concern he tried to brush off when he first got here. Jason’s grown up with a thousand eyes on him for as long as he can remember—but this feels more intimate. It _is._ Thalia and Nico look at _him_ , and the title of Son of Jupiter doesn’t matter.

Not being _their_ Jason doesn’t matter, either.

Praetor Nico flies over from the couch when everyone else is too scared to move. His hands fasten over Jason’s shoulders, and his brow furrows together. The concern flickers in his blue eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Jason returns the gaze, the beginning of a smile waning against his lips. His first instinct is to say that he’s fine. That there isn’t much to worry about. But—there’s an intensity to Praetor Nico’s look, and the subtle latching onto Jason’s shoulders implies he’s not going to take anything less than the truth.

“Better,” Jason admits—surprising even himself. His smile fades softly, and he stares down at the wound on his arm. “I…think I needed that.”

“Which part, bro?” Roman Percy asks—and despite the light ribbing, his smile is strained.

“All of it. Even the piercing part.” Jason caresses his arm and bites his lip. “I…could use some ice on it though.”

“Say no more.” Thalia leaps into action and goes to scoop ice into a bag.

Jason takes the time to look at her—how, despite how quickly she was dressed the day before, she’s still in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Even Praetor Nico’s hair sticks in odd directions. The shirt on his back seems far too big, much like the hoodie from two nights prior. There are lines under his eyes that make Jason’s heart ache with familiarity. 

In a strange way, it just makes him look more like Jason’s Nico.

“How are you really?” Praetor Nico asks him quietly.

“Better, Nico.” Jason smiles weakly at the other demigod—and he’s surprised at how easy it is. “I mean it.”

Thalia returns with a large bag of ice, and Jason is guided to the sofa—where both a large pillow and the plush throw blanket lay. “Gotta say—I don’t have to do this very often.”

The grocery bag is filled to the brim, fit with a tight little bow at the top. Jason stares at the bag of ice, which is bigger than his head. “Uh—I never would’ve noticed.”

Praetor Nico stares at the bag, then to Thalia—then shakes his head in defeat. “Jace doesn’t gets hurt.”

“Really?” Jason’s hand flies to his head. “I’ve lost count of times I’ve had a concussion.”

They all stare at him with looks of disbelief and wait. Long enough for Jason to get uncomfortable.

“I’m, uh. Not joking.” Jason smiles coyly and hugs the bag of ice under his arm like a football. And again, no one laughs. “Don’t you guys have Legion things to do?”

They stare at him instead, and Jason jumps as Praetor Nico gives his arm a tiny squeeze. Blue eyes stare at him pointedly. “The Legion can spare me for the day.”

Jason stares back at Praetor Nico, whose gaze is unwavering. He looks up to Reyna curiously, asking for confirmation. Sure—Jason was no stranger to the freedom that came with praetorship—he just rarely used it. Yet the corner of Reyna’s lips twitches with a fondness Jason has only ever seen for Nico, and she ruffles Nico’s already mussy hair.

“We wanted to make sure you were okay first,” she explains. “The centurions are handling drills this morning.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” Jason turns his head curiously to Roman Percy. “All the centurions?”

Roman Percy waves a hand dismissively. “There are two of us for a reason. Dakota’s got it covered until I get back.”

Beth swipes a cookie off his plate. “It’s better for everyone in the Fifth Cohort that way.”

“Hey!” Roman Percy whines—but he doesn’t fight back.

“You…guys don’t have to drop everything for me.” Jason stares peculiarly at their small group, unsure of what to say. He thinks back to his outburst yesterday at the hospital and resists the urge to shrink. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

He expects protest from Praetor Nico—or maybe Thalia. Instead, he receives a squeeze on the shoulder by his sister.

“How about we go to Fabiano’s for breakfast again?” she suggests. “I’ll buy you three brownies this time.”

“You sure you don’t have somewhere to be?” Jason’s eyebrows knit together—but her gaze glitters with a fondness.

Thalia smiles. “I have all the time in the world for you, baby brother.”

Thus, half an hour later finds them in the same bakery as before—this time pushing thin iron tables together and splitting waffles amongst their group. Again—Jason finds himself dressed in Jace’s clothes—away from the startling purple from the day before and the warm orange he’s grown used to at Camp Halfblood. He doesn’t think it’s possible to get used to someone else’s wardrobe—he just hopes Jace won’t mind.

This time, Praetor Nico doesn’t shirk away from him. Jason finds himself beside the other son of Jupiter while Beth and Percy carry on a conversation at the other end of the table, gesturing wildly. Jason catches Praetor Nico staring at him while Reyna and Thalia busy themselves at the cash register.

Jason stares down at his ensemble curiously. “Don’t tell me I’m wearing another one of your gifts.”

His cheeks burn as Praetor Nico’s eyebrow rises in the air. It’s different from the tender look of concern from before—akin to the wryness from their first meeting. Eventually, Praetor Nico shakes his head. “No. But you do act like this is new to you.”

“Well,” Jason says, “Lupa did let me run wild and free for a while.”

Praetor Nico stares back at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Legion had to housebreak me at the age of four.” The corner of Jason’s lips raises, and he watches as Praetor Nico shakes his head in disbelief. He stares at the worried lines beneath Praetor Nico’s eyes—and the hastily put-together outfit beneath the mussy black bedhead. A well-fitted bomber jacket, a t-shirt with what Jason assumed was some video-game character, and a pair of jeans.

Jason almost wants to take a picture. It’s the least amount of black Nico’s ever worn. His gaze falls to the shirt in particular—some strange eight-bit smiling dog. 

Praetor Nico stares at him. “You were raised by Lupa. By wolves.”

“Best Mom I ever had.” Jason smiles freely at the admission—but Praetor Nico is still searching for the punchline. Lupa treated him like one of her pups first and Juno’s champion second. Even she had scoffed when she learned Percy and he got swapped.

Annabeth stares at him from the other end of the table, her own lips twitching. “Jason was telling us the other day that the Legion used to celebrate his Gotcha Day.”

Praetor Nico stares at him curiously. “A Gotcha Day.”

“I didn’t know what my birthday was until last year.” Jason shrugs.

“July 1st,” Thalia interjects—and she places a plate stacked with three New Roman brownies in front of him before giving Jason’s hair a good ruffle. “Nico and I planned it.”

Jason’s own smile lifts as he sees her. He glances back to Praetor Nico, whose cheeks dust with a bashful pink. “Yeah?”

“You deserved one,” Praetor Nico explains, “after what a disaster your sixteenth birthday was.”

A memory of Rome fills Jason’s mind. It’d started with Annabeth leaving them to find the Athena Parthenos and ended with her and Percy plummeting to the pits of Tartarus. Percy and he spent the first half of their quest desperately trying to find a balance in power that it got in the way of getting along. Even that didn’t last long. Once Annabeth and Percy fell, Jason had been pushed back in the role of leader to get them to Epirus.

He thinks back to the beginning of the War Game yesterday before everything went wrong. Roman Percy eyed him with a camaraderie that Jason learned in his time in the Legion but was never allowed to enjoy. He was always the _leader_ in a _team_ setting.

“Guess he and I have that in common,” Jason admits. He ponders it once more. “Piper made a birthday cake appear for me, though.”

They stare at him strangely as he picks a brownie off his plate. Roman Percy breaks their silence. “So, you two really dated.” 

Jason stares back at Roman Percy with confusion—and then catches Praetor Nico shooting him a look that says, _Can it._

“Uh,” Jason says—he looks at the way everyone is staring at him—either with amusement or curiosity. “Yeah. For almost a year. Juno…swapped us, and—”

“And made mist memories for Piper?” Reyna finishes for him—which leave Jason puzzled.

“Yeah,” Jason says quietly, and he blinks. “How’d you know?”

Reyna’s gaze flits over to Annabeth—and there’s a story behind that look. Jason reasons his way through it, and—

“Oh,” he says. “ _You_ dated Piper.”

There’s a strange way that the group addresses one another—particularly Percy, Nico, and Reyna—while Thalia looks disinterested in her girlfriend’s previous encounters.

Reyna flushes. “Not for very long.”

She isn’t often one to get flustered. Jason has an inkling that the Reyna of this universe has that in common with the one back home. He decides not to press on it and focuses on Piper instead. Their last few days together, leading up to his death—and the days leading up to their breakup, too.

How relieved he was. Not _just_ to keep her safe.

“You and her, huh?” Jason asks, and his own voice is distant. “Glad she was able to figure herself out.”

The words are heavy at his lips. The rest of their small group picks up on it.

“She’s happy now,” Praetor Nico interjects. “She doesn’t visit camp often. Either one. I think she prefers staying with her dad.”

Of all people to discuss Piper’s status, Jason doesn’t expect to hear it from Nico. But—he looks back to the other son of Jupiter, and nods slowly. “Are she and Leo taking care of each other?”

That gets an eyebrow or two. Jason worries again, and he sits straighter in his seat.

“Leo’s alive, right?” he asks. “He didn’t—I mean, with the Physician’s Cure and all.”

Evidently, there’s another difference in their universe that causes a hiccup in their conversation. But Praetor Nico alleviates his worry by nodding. “He’s still alive and kicking. And loud.”

Jason sighs with relief. So long as his best friends had each other.

The richness of the New Rome brownie sits on Jason’s tongue—something he hadn’t been able to recount since he left two summers ago, with no memory to go off of from his old life other than the taste of ambrosia.

There were plenty of things that frustrated him about New Rome—but his heart ached as the Gods told him he’d have to let go of the good parts, too. When Jason let go of his Roman roots, every memory tasted as bitter as the ambrosia square Piper’d given him.

_These_ were the parts that he wanted to be good. Friendships that weren’t driven by his need to shirk away from his father’s title. Team plays in War Games without power struggles or manipulative words. Family, after being abandoned at the age of two.

Throughout breakfast, Jason can’t stop smiling.

At all of it—the quiet conversations between Beth and Roman Percy, the way Thalia grins at him when he doesn’t notice the little array of crumbs around his mouth—and how at ease everyone seems without a war looming over them.

His own world had so few moments of peace between wars. Small moments of relief, where everything wasn’t focused on the next fight, or the next war.

Eventually his smile wanes. Jason’s wounded arm is to his chest when Praetor Nico reaches over to touch his bicep. A glint of worry shows in the other demigod’s eyes.

“Sorry—must’ve zoned out.” Jason blinks, and he looks back up to their party.

Thalia smiles at him, but the worry is evident in her features. “I said I was going to walk Reyna back to the office. You good?”

Jason stares at her. “You’ll be back, right?”

She almost looks confused. “Yeah, Jason. Tonight. Besides—Neeks’ll take good care of you.”

He turns his gaze once more—this time to meet Praetor Nico’s. The other son of Jupiter nods slowly, lips pursed in a straight line—and once more, Jason notices the hand on his shoulder hasn’t disappeared.

They part ways. Jason watches as Thalia and Reyna’s silhouette shrink towards the principia, while Beth and Percy head towards the university.

“Where to?” Praetor Nico asks. It genuinely catches Jason off guard.

“Um…” Jason mulls over the question. Yesterday, they were still trying to summon a god in efforts to prompt a quest. He had a purpose here and needs to find a way home. But—this morning, he’s at a loss. Jason’s not sure what to say.

Praetor Nico’s gaze flickers, and he tilts his head. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admits—which, for some reason, makes his cheeks burn. People often came to him in search of an answer—even when Jason was still trying to figure out the problem himself. But he’s stuck here. The answer should be clear, but—for some reason, it isn’t.

To his embarrassment, Praetor Nico picks up on his reluctance. His gaze softens—though it wasn’t rigid to begin with.

“Flying usually clears my head,” he says. “Why don’t we do that?”

Jason sigh with relief.

They take to the sky with the cold winds beneath them. From the corner of his eye, Jason notices Praetor Nico button up his jacket, golden gladius dangling from his narrow hip. Jason breathes in the crisp New Rome air, his eyes aimed at the thick clouds above them.

Flying is freeing.

The air whistles past his ears. Jason sucks in another clean breath—and exhales with a smile.

From the corner of his eye, he catches Praetor Nico staring. Black hair flutters in this Nicoo’s face, his blue eyes almost blending with the winter sky. There’s a careful calmness to the way this Nico smiles at him—tentative and observant—and so much like Jason’s own Nico.

“What?” Praetor Nico asks, when he stares too long, and Jason feels his cheeks heat up.

“Nothing.” 

Eventually, the wind is too much for Jason’s arm. He staggers abruptly as the pain shoots up his shoulder and dips. Praetor Nico flashes a look of concern.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

Jason hesitates. “I…yeah. I just think we need to land. My arm is acting up. “

The embarrassment flutters in his voice—but if Praetor Nico notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, Praetor Nico points downwards in the outskirts of the main city. “The aviary should have some supplies.”

They land at the apex of a hill where eagles are circling above without the sense of urgency or haste that came with the War Games. Jason takes in the sight of the black metal bars and the many eagles inside, resting. Next to the enclosure is a small post that Jason is familiar with—the birdkeeper. He starts walking—then Praetor Nico places a hand in front of him.

“Oh.” Praetor Nico pauses, turning back to meet Jason’s gaze. “Sorry—habit. I’m assuming the birds are okay with you?”

“Should they not be?” Jason asks with confusion. Praetor Nico shoots Jason an odd look—but whatever he’s thinking doesn’t make it past his lips. Instead, they walk into the birdkeeper’s post together. The walls are the same—the same dull wood from when Camp Jupiter and New Rome were rebuilt in the early 1930s after the San Francisco earthquake.

The caretakers for the eagles are the same. Sheila—a sweet elderly woman that often knew Jason’s company—smiles at him.

“You look good, Jason,” Sheila says. “More handsome than usual.”   
  


Jason is taken aback by her statement—then realizes she’s referring to the other Jason. “Oh—thanks Sheila.”

Praetor Nico looks as huffy as he did days before. “He’s always been handsome.”

Jason’s cheeks flush. He offers an inquisitive look to the other son of Jupiter—but it warrants nothing more than a dismissive wave of the hand. Explaining _Jace_ and _Jason_ isn’t worth the time.

“Would you spare some nectar?” Praetor Nico asks instead, and he gestures to Jason’s arm. “He’s pretty sore.”

She beams. “Anything for you, Praetor di Angelo.”

The title rings sweetly in her tone. Jason can tell it’s aimed more at _Nico_ more than the praetor part. She disappears into the back, leaving them with a different array of birds in many different cages around them. Cuckoos. Sparrows. Red robins. Blue jays.

“Sheila’s family has been taking care of the war eagles for years,” Praetor Nico explains. “They have nectar and ambrosia just in case—”

“In case an eagle needs to be sent off on a rescue mission,” Jason finishes for him. He fondly stares out the window, his forearm at his chest, and watches the eagles happily napping in their enclosure. “I used to come here to feel closer to Dad.”

Like every other demigod, Jason knows his father’s symbols well. Eagles, oak trees, thunderstorms—and so on. It was hard to go two feet without seeing something in dedication to his father. Roman Gods rarely visited their children—but Jupiter even less so.

Only once, in Athens.

The worst part about regaining his memories was realizing his father wasn’t any less absent in his life. Jason could almost laugh now at how hopeful he was—of one day meeting his father before one simple word took him out of his father’s favor.

And again, his smile wanes.

“Jason?”

“Sorry—got lost in thought.” As he turns around, he notices a glass filled with nectar in Nico’s hand.

Praetor Nico stares at him inquisitively—then turns to Sheila. “Would it be okay to visit with the eagles?”

Jason can’t quite place the taste of the nectar. New Rome’s brownies were always the forefront of his thoughts—and for a time, they were the warm gooey marshmallows and s’mores at Camp Halfblood. Much like yesterday, it’s indescribable—almost lacking in flavor altogether.

He tries not to think about it as they walk the length of the aviary. The scent of bird poop is inevitable, but Jason focuses on the dome itself—at all of the different feeds, and various birds in the enclosure that would open up to deploy for rescue missions when needed.

A cuckoo bird settles on Jason’s head. A sparrow perches on his shoulder. An eagle croons and flies low to nuzzle Jason’s leg.

“Well that’s unfair,” he hears Praetor Nico grumble. “ _Stop that._ ”

Jason turns around, met with the sight of two rows of cuckoo birds staring pointedly at the other son of Jupiter. He swears two of them give this New Rome’s praetor a winged salute. A laugh flutters from Jason’s lips—and he’s surprised at how light it feels.

He whistles, giving the gentlest bird call—and slowly, Praetor Nico’s little army of cuckoo birds flutter towards him. Praetor Nico stares at him with intrigue—evidently unused to the sight of Jason Grace surrounded by birds.

“I used to love coming here,” Jason confesses. He collects a few more birds and lets them perch on his arm.

“I thought you said you couldn’t leave New Rome fast enough.”

He cocks his head back to Praetor Nico, who stares at him curiously. Jason considers Nico’s words. “There were good things about New Rome. Like—the Fifth Cohort. Fabiano’s. This place. But…”

“It wasn’t enough to make you stay,” Praetor Nico finishes for him. “The bad outweighed the good.”

The corner of Jason’s lip lifts uncomfortably. He reaches out with an arm, and a tiny chick scuttles from Jason’s arm to Praetor Nico’s shoulder. “Piper was always afraid that I would go back to New Rome.”

Praetor Nico stares at him. Then, slowly, he turns his attention to the bird perched on his arm instead, which stands at attention. “You stayed at Camp Halfblood for Piper.”

Jason shakes his head. “I was supposed to go to go back and forth between both camps. It just never worked out that way.”

“To serve the gods,” Praetor Nico surmises. “As pontifex.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what you wanted?”

“It’s what needed to happen.” Jason lets another bird scuttle off of his arm and takes another sip of nectar. “There are too many gods and goddesses out there that deserve to have their name heard. I never found them all. If I hadn’t died, I’d still be keeping a record of all of them.”

“Hm,” is all Praetor Nico offers. It’s seemingly light. He leans over and scratches the chin of an eagle. His tone isn’t insistent. “Have you ever thought about not doing it anymore?”

“What, not serving the gods?”

“Yes,” Nico agrees. “And putting yourself first.”

The edge of Jason’s lip twitches. He could laugh at the statement—but as he looks up and notices Praetor Nico doesn’t share his sentiment. “I, uh. Don’t think that’s something you get to _choose_ , Nico. The gods kind of take precedent.”

“So what happens when they don’t?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

There’s a tiny furrow between Praetor Nico’s eyebrows, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets. He pulls out a handful of birdseed and scatters it across the ground. “What do you do when you’re not serving the gods, Jason?”

“I—” Jason struggles to find the words to finish that sentence. He thinks about every moment of peace he’s had in the last five years—and it’s always brief. A pause before the next quest. Before the next wile of a god or goddess. “I don’t know.”

Much like everything else today, it’s a question Jason struggles to answer. He feels like he’s floating in air without wind to guide him—and again, having so little to offer bothers him.

As he looks to Praetor Nico, though, the other demigod doesn’t look surprised. Maybe troubled. There’s a soberness to his expression that was there the first day—but it’s full force now.

“What does the other me do?” Jason asks finally. “Beth said he doesn’t serve the gods anymore.”

“When he can help it,” Praetor Nico agrees, and he half shrugs. He leans over and lets a cuckoo bird climb across the length of his fingers. “He goes to school. Hangs out with Thalia. With Annabeth, and my sister.” He bites the inside of his mouth, and the slightest shade of pink dusts across his cheeks. “We go out on dates. Sometimes we stay in. Mostly that. He likes to cook.”

“That…sounds…”

“Normal?”

“Amazing,” Jason finishes—and he relishes in the way Praetor Nico looks more approving of him.

“You could have that,” Praetor Nico points out.

“I…” Jason hesitates—and that tiny sliver of reluctance is all Praetor Nico seems to need.

This version of his best friend reaches out and allows the cuckoo bird to take tiny steps across Jason’s bandages. Praetor Nico’s gaze follows its path, and his lips fade into a quiet frown. “You really scared us yesterday.”

There’s pain in his voice. It hits Jason square in his chest, like a tertiary dagger. His hand raises to his chest out of reflex—in order to inspect the wound, but it isn’t there. Jason’s heart is gnarled by Praetor Nico’s hurt words alone—and then he realizes which hand he’s holding close to his heart. His fingers flex beneath the bandages.

“I scared myself,” Jason admits softly.

“Why do you think that is?”

Jason hesitates. Yesterday he was too exhausted to think about it. Shaking. Trembling. Truthfully, he doesn’t even remember getting home. Getting back to Thalia and Jace’s apartment. All he remembers the fear broiling in his chest and falling asleep with an exhaustion that felt far older than yesterday.

“I think,” Jason says slowly, “that I thought I made preparations for my death. That…everyone would be okay with it. I thought _I_ was okay with it. And—after coming here, I guess I’m not sure I’m _supposed_ to be okay with it.”

The corner of Praetor Nico’s lips twitch, and there’s a sad glimmer in his eye. “My boyfriend is a son of Hades and _he’s_ not okay with death, Jason.”

Jason could laugh. He shakes his head instead and runs his hand over the bandages gently. “You’re a proud son of Hades back in my world. Camp Halfblood might’ve lost the war if you hadn’t convinced Hades to join Olympus.”

Praetor Nico looks at him curiously—as though trying to wrap his mind around that fact. Jason doesn’t blame him. This entire life feels like a dream—and Jason has found himself wanting to wake up less and less.

“I envied how freely you moved back and forth between camps,” Jason admits—and he looks at the bird perched on his shoulder again. “No attachments. Not to anything. But you were happy when you found a place you belonged. I was happy for you.”

“What about you?” Praetor Nico asks. “Did you find a place where you belong?” 

Again, Jason hesitates. “For a short while. But…”

“But you left,” Praetor Nico surmises. “For school.”

Jason looks back up to the other demigod. He doesn’t know why the words are hard to get out, but Praetor Nico is patient in his inquiry.

“I didn’t meet Thalia until last year,” Jason confesses. “I didn’t know _anything_ about what life I had before Juno took me. Even before she took my memories I—I never wondered what that life had in store for me. Then I finally met a sister I never knew and—”

Jason’s hand curls over his bandages and he feels an ache, despite how much nectar and ambrosia he sipped and ate yesterday. Despite _watching_ that Apollo veteran stitch up his arm. He peers up, again unsure of what to say.

But Praetor Nico is patient. He urges, “Go on.”

“It… _hurt_ ,” Jason admits—and there’s a crack in his voice, “that the one person who knew me before Juno’s Champion already put that far behind her when I was just getting to know it. She didn’t want to tell me anything. I’d…hoped Pasadena would give me answers about that. About us.”

Nico’s demeanor twists with a quiet concern. “Did you ever consider asking her for more?”

“Every time I saw her.” Jason’s smile aches as he stares back at the other son of Jupiter, and he shrugs tiredly. “She…had her own demons with our mom. Everything before she got turned into a pine tree and right after was too painful. She—”

“She moved forward,” Praetor Nico finishes for him. “She didn’t do that here.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” Jason’s chest warms and he curls a palm over his heart. “I never knew it was possible to get to a place where we’re living together, let alone be in the same place as Thalia for more than a few hours. You know?”

This Thalia—the one that Jason has only known for _three days_ compared to the one he’s always hoping will spare minutes—has answered every question. Has asked for every thought in his head and made her own assertions. She put him first the moment they laid eyes on each other.

Jason didn’t have to wait for the next gust of wind to blow. This Thalia is steady, and their relationship is more valuable than any riches.

“I never knew I could live in New Rome and have it be this _easy_ ,” Jason confesses. “I avoided praetorship for as long as I could. I joined the Fifth Cohort because I didn’t like all of the infighting and the power struggles. But I—I couldn’t leave fast enough. I. I was lonely.”

The three little words weigh on Jason’s tongue—and he’s surprised with how heavy it sounds when it comes out.

“Yeah,” Praetor Nico murmurs, and his hand brushes against the set of beads on his wrist. “I can imagine.”

Jason follows every movement. The surreptitious way Praetor Nico’s lithe fingers just curl against the multi-colored bracelet gently, and just how dearly he holds it, like holding someone’s heart.

“He was lonely here too,” Jason guesses quietly. “Wasn’t he?”

The edges of Praetor Nico’s lips lift with a tired smile and he nods. “Jace…struggles with being a hero and a good son for Hades. He tries to uphold the laws of death for his dad, but—I think all of that together is—”

“Too much pressure,” Jason surmises—and the way Praetor Nico lowers his head into a punctuated nod answers his question. “Hercules told me once that it was a problem with Children of Jupiter. Eventually all of Jupiter’s children just crack.”

Praetor Nico nods slowly at first—but he stares at Jason. More specifically—how quickly Jason was able to finish that sentence. Oh.

“Not…a Children of Jupiter thing,” Jason realizes quietly, and he brushes his fingers over his chest. “A me thing.”

So, _so_ much pressure in being the leader New Rome expected him to be. To be the boyfriend that Piper always imagined kissing under the stars—and to be the champion that Juno thought she deserved after her husband’s affairs.

“You said your mother named you after Juno’s favorite hero.” Praetor Nico pulls up his sleeve, and above the colorful set of beads is the black inked eagle that bound them together. “It’s… _different_ here, but your life never should have been used as a bargaining chip. Not for Juno.”

“Not for Hades, either?” Jason asks, and his lips lift into a tired smile.

Praetor Nico looks at him with bright blue eyes. He’s holding back a comment, but Jason can almost see it in the way the other son of Jupiter scrutinizes him.

“Not for any of the gods up there,” Praetor Nico says. “Not for Mammina, or Apollo. Or Dad. Especially not him. No one wants to be his child. Not even the God of Heroes.”

“I don’t know what I am if I’m not Juno’s Champion or Jupiter’s son, Nico.” The confession is heavy—but it’s weighed on him since the other day. For all that Jason questioned what his life was like before Juno carried him off to the Wolf House, Juno _is_ part of his identity. Juno _is_ the reason he grew up Roman, and why he considered himself _Greek_ , too—

And it’s his biggest _I don’t know._ Jason’s not sure what else to expect in life because of it. And yet—he rubs his arm emphatically. Praetor Nico notices immediately.

“I,” Nico starts quietly, “don’t think it was being Mammina’s champion or Jupiter’s son that made you react the way you did yesterday.”

The corner of Jason’s lips hurt as they lift into a smile.

“It was easy to think everyone would be okay if I was the only one with a life to lose,” Jason admits. “I just—I didn’t realize _what_ I’d be losing.”

“And what do you think now?”

“That it’s a lot.” Jason’s surprised by the gravity of his own voice. His eyes grow wet, tingling—but he refuses to cry again. Not like yesterday. “That…you, and my sister, and everyone else that I care so much about would be safe but all of the reasons that made me care about them so much—I was trading that. That—that I almost traded it again because I wasn’t paying attention yesterday.”

Jason stares at his bandages. As he raises his gaze again, he notices Praetor Nico staring at him with a gentle concern—and despite the weight of his own words, red flushes in Jason’s cheeks, embarrassed. Shameful, even.

“Sorry,” Jason says, and he pull the sleeve down on the jacket he’s wearing. “I’m getting caught up over a silly cut.”

“It’s not silly.” Before he gets too far, Nico curls a hand over his wrist. Their hands catch together, and Jason is reminded of the litheness of his own Nico’s hands. The nimbleness of his own Nico’s fingers, and the cool touch of his hand. They always seemed to reach out with a purpose—a mission—unless you were one of the privileged few who held Nico di Angelo’s trust.

He wonders what that must be like, to have Nico’s heart, too.

Jason raises his gaze back up to the pristine blue eyes that are supposed to match his own. He thinks—no matter the warmth in skin, or the light hue of those irises—Nico will always be Nico. The same source of comfort when Jason didn’t feel comfortable in his own cabin and when he wanted someone to talk to. Needed someone.

The same person Jason sought out when he felt overwhelmed and couldn’t place a name to how he was feeling.

“I miss you,” Jason whispers quietly.

Slowly, Praetor Nico’s fingers fold, and they’re no longer against his wrist. His gaze flickers—and there’s a smudge in his façade. It’s brief. Jason thinks that if he pointed out the sad gleam in Praetor Nico’s eyes, he’d be rebuffed—but it’s a strong glimpse.

“So why would you leave me?” Praetor Nico asks—and his voice is strained, as though he’s trying to fight through the tightness of his own throat.

Jason laughs sadly, his lips stretching into an awkward smile across his face. “We’re not like that in my world.”

“Yeah,” Praetor Nico replies, and he curls his fingers over his bracelet. His lips press together in a tight line. “I know. Piper.”

The name is amicable on his tongue, but Jason briefly flashes back to the first day. How Praetor Nico had looked when Jason asked if Beth and he were dating.

“But I wanted to be,” Jason confesses. “Really, really badly.”

Praetor Nico’s gaze flits back to him almost immediately, and they stare at each other. The surprise is immeasurable—and Jason can’t even describe what it’s doing to his heart. How he’s in a world where the two of them are together. Except—it’s not his. It never was. One of the first things Praetor Nico ever told him was that _this_ relationship shouldn’t be another expectation.

And—honestly, that just makes Jason like Nico more. It’s a breath of air that follows the weight Jason so often holds—between his father’s title, his stepmother’s expectations, and his ex-girlfriend’s needs. Jason remembers so clearly vowing to be a friend for Nico, but he doesn’t think he could measure just how much he received in return. Quiet conversations in the middle of the night. Eyes that were wary of his title rather than regaling in his heroics. A _friend_ , given by his own merits and not the mist.

“Uh,” Praetor Nico suddenly says, and he clears his throat—red flourishing across his cheeks. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because you were happy.” Jason shrugs, stiffly. The ache of watching Nico slowly turn away from his companionship in favor of Will’s comes back. It’s dull, but it’s there. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t ruin that for him. For you.”

Praetor Nico stares back at Jason, his eyebrows knitting together. His finger hooks between the beads on his bracelet. “What makes you think I couldn’t be happy with you?”

Jason’s smile aches, and he shakes his head sadly. “I was with Piper.”

“You mentioned you had broken up before Caligula.”

Jason shakes his head. “What good would it do to tell you that I’m in love with you when I knew I was going to die in the weeks to come?”

He’s not sure what he expects out of Praetor Nico next. The other son of Jupiter runs his fingers across the beads of his bracelet, so reminiscent to Jason’s Nico fiddling with his skull ring. The expression on his face is akin to a frown.

“That’s considerate of you,” Praetor Nico says finally.

“Somehow I don’t think I’m supposed to take that as a compliment.”

Praetor Nico’s gaze flits back to Jason, his gaze wry. There’s so much in there that reminds Jason of Reyna—and he reminds himself that this Nico was doted on by three loving demigods. This Nico didn’t struggle to find a home after finding out he was a halfblood—he was accepted, fully, under the wings of New Rome. Those who raised him made sure this Nico would never have to worry about the pressure that came with being Jupiter’s son.

“Jace and I are close,” Praetor Nico says. “Even before we started dating. We…struggled to get there. I pushed him away a lot. But we worked on it. He was patient with me.”

“Good,” Jason says, and he means it. Despite the yearning Jason found himself in over Nico, he’s glad to be in a universe where Nico still holds him dear. Even if it’s just as friends. 

But Praetor Nico stares at him. “For all of the patience Jace had with me—while I was coming to terms with things—I didn’t notice he needed someone to reach out to him, too. Neither did he.”

Jason stares back—and this time, Praetor Nico’s gaze looks more pointed. His throat dries. “I’m. I don’t follow.”

“No,” Praetor Nico agrees. “I didn’t expect you would.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and sprinkles another array of bird seed across the ground. One of the cuckoo birds salutes, then happily pecks at the ground. Nico’s tone is light, but the words are heavy. And then, finally—

“You’re allowed to love, too,” Praetor Nico says. “You’re allowed to feel, Jason.”

The corners of Jason’s lips lift into a tired, aching smile. “I’m…not just going to try and sweep you from under someone else’s nose, Nico.”

“I’m not just talking about me. The other Nico, I mean.” Praetor Nico’s cheeks dust a quiet pink. He pulls out a bag of birdseed from his pocket and sprinkles some in Jason’s hand. “I mean—in general. It shouldn’t have to come out in bursts like yesterday.”

Jason stares at the other demigod—and he thinks he understands why there was so much concern in Praetor Nico’s eyes.

“Do you…” Praetor Nico hesitates. “Did you even like Piper?”

“Of course I did.” Jason stares back, surprised—but Praetor Nico’s scrutiny continues.

“I,” Praetor Nico says, “just know that when it happened to Reyna, she was a little disoriented because of the mist. And with her memories stolen. Maybe…maybe Piper and she would’ve lasted longer if they were on the boat, but Reyna already had a strong connection to New Rome.”

And Jason couldn’t leave fast enough. The words remain unspoken—but as Praetor Nico studies Jason, the latter demigod knows they’re both thinking it.

“But you both had Piper,” Praetor Nico says. “I…think I get it if you were willing to move across the country for her, but you…” He hesitates once more. “You haven’t mentioned her very much since you got here.”

He stares at Jason, evidently contemplating something.

“Jace…has a tendency not to rock the boat. Not if people need him,” Praetor Nico says. “He’s also been susceptible to charmspeak in the past.”

Oh. “You’re wondering if she charmspoke me into moving to Camp Halfblood,” Jason guesses. “And if she charmspoke me into Pasadena.”

Praetor Nico grimaces. The hesitation to continue shows on his face.

“You’re wondering if she charmspoke me for most of our relationship,” Jason continues, and from the way Praetor Nico slowly lowers his gaze, Jason knows he’s finally hit the nail on the head. “I had an inkling that she might have.”

Praetor Nico looks back up, evidently surprised by the admission.

“Piper’s charmspeak comes with…anxiety. Butterflies in the stomach. Fuzziness. This… _need_ to please her, even if it’s just to see her smile,” Jason explains. He rubs his forehead again, reliving that feeling. “I…got _some_ of that with my Nico. Some butterflies. But I…never felt that fuzziness. I could focus on the quest, and when Piper wanted it, I could focus on her.”

He pauses, and his eyes fall down to where he was stabbed the first time by Michael Varus. Where even at the brink of death, he was more worried about others than himself. About someone in particular.

“You were the first time I couldn’t separate my feelings from the mission,” he admits, and he curls his fingers over his chest. “If…I’d actually seen you before Caligula, I don’t know if I would’ve gone back to Pasadena.”

Praetor Nico’s demeanor diminishes, his brow furrowing together. “It means you wouldn’t have died, Jason.”

“It means no one would’ve been there to guide Apollo on his quest.”

“No,” Praetor Nico says, and he shakes his head profusely. “It means you would’ve _lived_. You could’ve stayed in Camp Halfblood like you wanted. You could’ve stayed with—with me.”

He stumbles on the latter half of his sentence and flushes as he raises his gaze back up.

“Sorry,” he hastily says, and his cheeks burn. His words are heavy—and it’s clear that he’s still trying to find where Jason ends and Jace begins.

But Jason knows. “It’s okay, Nico. I’m fine.”

Praetor Nico stares at him, brow still furrowed in disagreement. “So why stay with Piper if you realized she was charmspeaking you?”

“A lot of it was timing,” Jason says. “By the time I’d figured it out, she was already wanting to break up. And—she needed to sort herself out. I needed to be there for her.”

Leo died. Jason sought Nico’s company. He fell for Nico—and Nico fell for someone else. That heartache was stronger than all of the butterflies and little fluttering on his heart. Like an arrow to the chest versus ants trickling over his forehead for Piper. And—while Jason tried to pick apart why watching Nico with someone else felt like a thousand anxious pricks at his heart compared to anything he’d ever felt for Piper—she wanted to end things.

There was heartache when they broke up—but even then, it was numb compared to the painful thought of going back to Camp Halfblood and watching Nico fall for someone else.

A frown tugs at Praetor Nico’s lips, and he turns his gaze back to Jason. “Most people don’t stick around their exes after they break up, Jason. Much less get dumped.”

He says it with such poignance that Jason finds himself wondering who’s on the other son of Jupiter’s list of old flames. The thought doesn’t last long, however. Jason shrugs. “She needed me. And, I mean—she wanted space for a little while, too.”

“ _She_ wanted space?”

Jason shifts uncomfortably and stares as it hikes up his arm. “It’s not like I didn’t welcome it.”

“So you wanted space from her too?”

“I did,” Jason admits—and his stomach just coils with an ache of frustration—something he buried deep below because it didn’t seem to matter. “I…did everything she wanted, charmspeak or not. But…at the end of the day I still couldn’t live up to that perfect boyfriend from her fake memories.”

He flushes, reliving the disappointment that came with getting dumped. Jason couldn’t please Piper. He couldn’t sneak out and break the rules for her, or read her mind—but the disappointment he felt wasn’t in failing her.

It was in himself.

Years of countless quests under his father’s name, unraveled by speaking out of turn and calling his father _unwise._ Sixteen years of his life taken as an appeasement to the Queen of the Gods—written off in an afternoon, after hearing Juno refer to him as _no son of hers._ And his first relationship—first _anything_ —no matter how hard he tried, ended because he wasn’t enough compared to a handful of mist memories for his stepmother’s plan.

For _once_ in his life, Jason wishes he was enough.

He curls a hand against his chest once more, and it just… _aches_. “I’m…already second-best for my dad and Juno. I don’t want to be second-best for someone I’m in love with, too.”

Jason’s hand falls from his cast. He feels his eyebrows knit together, lips pressed into an aching frown—and he raises his gaze to Praetor Nico’s. Again, the other demigod’s demeanor flickers with a quiet worry—and Jason realizes his own words.

He touches his forehead. “Sorry, I’m not—she had her reasons—”

“No,” Praetor Nico says—and his hand flies out to touch Jason’s own. His grip is firm and strong, just like his gaze. Like his words. “Don’t _ever_ apologize for being _you_.”

Jason stares at the azure blue eyes in front of him—the irises that belonged to this incarnation of Nico di Angelo, and his heart hurts. He can _feel_ the strength of Praetor Nico’s words thrumming from his finger pads, and—it hurts, almost as much as the sword wound does.

“I didn’t want to just be friends with you,” Jason confesses softly, his chest tight. “I didn’t want to be second-best with you, too, but I—I couldn’t just sit around and watch you fall in love with someone else.”

It was better to stay away. One look at Nico’s smile is all it would’ve taken for Jason’s heart to lift again, and he wouldn’t have wanted to go back to Pasadena. He thinks of Cupid’s words—of how he wasn’t sure if he’d found true love.

Maybe he hadn’t—never, now—but love was scary for a reason. It wasn’t just lace-curtains and red hearts, and love notes. It was also full-hearted conversations in the middle of the night, laying at the precipice of death and thinking about the person you cared about the most.

Jason doesn’t think that he’s cared about anything— _anyone_ more than Nico. There weren’t false memories, no mention of son of Jupiter and son of Hades. Just the two of them trying to understand each other past the titles that were so haphazardly thrust upon them.

He never wanted to be anything less than important in Nico’s life because Nico’s life _is_ important.

But…maybe his life is important, too.

It’s important to this Thalia, who Jace moved in with after the war. To Beth, who grew up with him and wanted nothing more than for Jace to open up when he was in over his head, and to Roman Percy and Reyna, who saw a hero that wasn’t raised on Roman tradition and still cared about his wellbeing.

And—Jace’s life is important to Praetor Nico. So much so that Praetor Nico is standing here with another incarnation of his boyfriend and picking out all of the flaws in the ideologies that Jason has been taught since he was two.

Between the two of them—Jason and Jace—one of them is dead. The other is at peace.

Praetor Nico stares back at him—and it’s to a look that Jason is so rarely privileged. Pity.

“I’m sorry Piper made you feel that way,” Praetor Nico says softly, and he pauses. “I’m sorry, that… _I_ —”

“No,” Jason interjects. He shakes his head furiously, and his cheeks burn with a steady heat. “I can’t take that apology. There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Nico.”

Praetor Nico stares back at him, evidently at a loss—but it’s a problem that he can’t quite fix. A broken heart with pieces missing in a different universe.

And—despite Praetor Nico’s insistence that Jason is allowed to _love_ and _feel_ —he’s not going to take his heartache out on a boy that isn’t his.

“I,” Praetor Nico finally says, “told you the other day that I didn’t want you to tie your happiness to mine. To anyone’s.”

That evening feels like eons ago after yesterday. “I remember that.”

“I still think you deserve to be happy,” Praetor Nico continues. He twitches, his demeanor thoughtful, and he slowly tucks his hands back in his pockets. “I…can’t be _that_ Nico that you’re wanting—”

“I know,” Jason says, and his heart aches as he smiles. “I don’t expect you to be, Nico. You’re enough as you are—”

“Let me finish.” Praetor Nico raises his gaze, cheeks pink with fluster—but his demeanor is thoughtful. Empathetic. “I think you should stay here. If you want, that is.”

Jason stares at Praetor Nico, wondering if he heard correctly. The other demigod doesn’t bat an eye—and Jason recalls hearing the same exact words the day before.

“I mean it,” Praetor Nico says—and while his voice is soft, his words are firm. “The _want_ part. Thalia and Jace can afford to get a bigger place. You’d…be around friends. People who _care_ about you and make sure you’re okay. You’d have your sister.”

He pauses, evidently reluctant, then looks back up to Jason.

“You’d have me,” he says gently. “I…might not be the Nico you want, and you may not be my Jace—but. I. I still care about you, Jason. I care about whether or not you’re being taken care of.”

“I…” Jason can’t find his voice. In the stillness of their conversation, he waits for the other foot to drop. All the stipulations that came with peace. The compromise.

Praetor Nico’s gaze remains on him—patiently awaiting a response.

“I didn’t think that was an option,” Jason admits.

Praetor Nico stares back at him. “When your life is on the line, Jason, an _out_ is always an option.”

He’s so persistent that Jason wants to believe him. The corner of Jason’s lips twitch, and his gaze falls back to the many birds fluttering about the aviary. Happy and free. “I need to think about it.”

“Take as much time as you need.” Praetor Nico welcomes another cuckoo bird as it lands in his hair. “Just…know that you need a break, Jason.”

They’re silent for a while, scattering bird seeds for all of the eagles and cuckoo birds.

“I…,” Jason starts quietly. “I probably do.”

There’s an easiness to his next breath. Jason’s shoulders fall—and from the corner of his eye, he notices Praetor Nico studying him with a quiet relief. All from just a _maybe._

Maybe there doesn’t have to be stipulations. Or another foot to drop.

Maybe…this _is_ enough. Living here. Jason ponders that as they enter another silence.

Eventually, the birds flutter away from Jason, and he hears—

“Stop that,” Praetor Nico orders. A cohort of birds line up in front of him, ready for a command. A cuckoo bird stays perched in his hair, moving with his own movements. The birds only salute—as noble as any soldier that has entered the Legion.

And Jason laughs, with an eagle perched on his shoulder. Praetor Nico looks back over to him, demeanor contorted into a huff—but it doesn’t last long. A smile eventually makes it over his own face, too.

It’s…peaceful.

*

Jace is at Nico’s door first thing in the morning. Right at dawn, just like Jason used to be.

“Oh,” is all he says when Nico opens the door. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”

He’s dressed differently. A slightly worn Camp Halfblood shirt and a pair of running shorts. Sweat mats Jace’s hair to his forehead and glows over his biceps. He’s out of breath—having evidently returned from a run—and he stares at Nico, the concern evident in his eyes.

All of the heartache from last night creeps back into Nico’s chest.

“I never really fell asleep,” Nico confesses quietly. Too much time to think.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Jace’s breath steadies—and his eyes go past Nico’s shoulder, to the state of the Hades Cabin.

Nico’s hand curls against the door, resisting the urge to hold it closed. Jace notices anyway.

“Sorry,” Jace says. He lifts the hem of his collar slowly and wipes the sweat off his face. “My Cabin Thirteen looks a little different from yours.”

Nico’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, and he bites the inside of his mouth tentatively. “Thank you for that. For…staying in the Big House, I mean.”

“Cabin One would have felt too weird.” Jace’s lips crease into a tiny smile—and then they fall into a quiet silence. Jace stares at Nico, and Nico stares at his own fuzzy slippers. Slowly, Jace’s shoulders fall slack. “I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday.”

Nico’s chest tightens. His cheeks flush with frustration and shame. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah,” Jace says softly—in such an understanding tone that just makes Nico feel worse. “I figured.”

And again, silence.

The floorboard creaks under Jace’s weight. “I…just want you to know that I would…never intentionally say something that would hurt you, Nico. I’m sorry—”

“No,” Nico interrupts—and he stifles a sigh. He raises his gaze back up to Jace’s worried eyes and grimaces. “It was a lot all at once. I…know you have my best interest at heart. Jason always did. I just…”

He steadies his breath, and ignores the warmth wetting his eyes.

“It’s hard to move on,” he says quietly, “when there’s still so much more I want to know about him.”

Jason Grace—his first friend in this century after so many years of running. So many years trying to find Bianca’s spirit, communing with the dead and dwelling in the shadows—trying to find _something_ that would accept him after one lightning strike took everything away. Percy insisted on Nico trusting him, too—but that didn’t last long. If it did, Percy wouldn’t be trying to dig up issues between them that’d been buried with time.

At the end of the day, they all left him. Bianca couldn’t leave him fast enough after they found out they were demigods. She left him in death—and left him in reincarnation, too. Percy promised him a home at Camp Halfblood—and went on with his life. For all of Nico’s attempts at helping the son of Poseidon in the war, Percy washed away his own curse in the Little Tiber as though it was nothing more than an evening bath.

And Jason…Jason is a deeper heartache than Percy ever was, with the same intense love Nico had for his big sister. Jason left, too—but it’s a different ache. A new way that Nico didn’t know he could hurt until last night.

Jace catches on when he’s silent for too long.

“I,” Jace says quietly, “don’t want you to think he didn’t care about you, Nico.”

“I know he cared.” Just not in the way Nico wanted. “I just wish he cared about himself, too.”

It’s finally the sentence that stumps Jace. The blond son of Hades stares back at Nico, his eyes flickering with a slight worry as he tilts his head. He doesn’t have a defense for his own lack of self-preservation. Nico doesn’t expect him to. There isn’t _anything_ in the world to justify Jason stifling himself. Not acting as Juno’s appeasement, not serving the gods or saving the world—

For as often as Jason encouraged Nico to come out of the shadows, he only went as far in life as Juno and Jupiter’s birdcage allowed him.

“I already told you I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” Nico reminds Jace. He swallows a hard lump at the back of his throat, his shoulders falling—then finally raises to meet Jason’s gaze. “I’m just—I’m… _glad_ that _you’re_ in a place that you’re happy, Jace.”

He's glad Jace never went as far as death to save the world.

Nico can only guess how much freer Jace is in the other universe. Jace lights up every time his unnamed boyfriend is mentioned. But—at this very moment, Jace’s expression doesn’t change. His eyebrows knit together with an inaudible worry.

“You can tell me if you’re not okay, Nico,” he says quietly—and Nico’s heart wrenches.

“Just do what he couldn’t.” Nico tugs at the end of his shirt. “Keep caring about yourself as much as you care about other people, Jace. As much as you say you care about me.”

That doesn’t seem to put Jace at ease, either. It’s a strange impasse.

“Um,” Jace says finally, “about…what you asked me last night. About my boyfriend…”

He trails off, and Nico sucks in a breath.

Jace doesn’t finish that thought.

His eyes suddenly widen—and he cocks his head to the entrance of Camp Halfblood. Nico’s own stomach falls with dread—and he knows exactly what the other son of Hades is doing. The _souls_ they both sense.

Thalia Grace and her huntresses have arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year all! As we already know it's already a crazy start, so hopefully this helps take your mind off things! We're getting closer and closer to the boys meeting, so I'd love to hear how you think where it's going to go! If you haven't read yet, I just finished Dearly Departed, with a sequel of how our lovely godswap boys got together coming soon! Please give that a look see, on the beginnings of our godswap boys, their place here, and hopefully you'll tune into the middle, too!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You,” Thalia murmurs softly, “look so much like him.”
> 
> Jace smiles weakly—lacking in the luster and awe of before. “I’d hope so. I’m your brother.”
> 
> “Not quite.” Thalia’s eyebrows knit into a wrinkle. For all of the similarities often echoed about Percy and Thalia, this isn’t one of them. She reaches out—but pauses short of Jace’s shoulder. Slowly, Thalia curls her hand and points a thumb to herself. “Daughter of Zeus.”
> 
> She points to Jace.
> 
> “Son of Hades,” she finishes—then her gaze slowly lifts to meet Nico’s.

It’s a quick start. Nico is reminded of the first day, when Jace’s soul appeared at the front of Camp Halfblood—the familiar sense of Jason’s lifeforce filling him like his next breath. Jace’s eyes light up—with a short sense of urgency and the edges of his lips twitching.

“Wait.” Nico reaches for Jace’s hand—and a jolt of… _something_ passes between their fingers. It’s not like electricity—it never would be with this Jason—but Jace still stares at him, with a startling intensity that wasn’t there before.

Jace wasn’t going to let anyone come between him and his big sister.

The saturation of his gaze is so staggering that the words almost dissolve on Nico’s tongue. He gathers his bearings, letting the shadow tendrils coil at his feet, and Jace’s gaze falls. Nico’s heart remembers to beat. He remembers to exhale.

Jace’s fingers lace around Nico’s with a gentle care that makes Nico shiver—and then they melt into the shadows.

They reappear at the foot of the entrance, and Nico refrains from looking too uncomfortable. There’s an, _Oh!_ as they emerge from behind a pine tree, and they’re met with the sight of the Huntresses—dressed in their silver winter parkas, and shining against the fading moonlight.

Thalia and Reyna are both there. No matter how uniform they look with their pack of huntresses, Reyna will always stick out for Nico—looking too regal and too good to be with Lady Artemis’s contraband.

And—there’s absolutely no way for Thalia, daughter of Zeus, _not_ to stick out.

“Thalia,” Jace whispers gently, the tenor of his voice so sweet that Nico’s heart aches again. He looks a little more like the Jason Nico knows—his eyes lighting up and lips lifting. Jace’s hands twitch, as though he’s resisting the urge to throw his arms around Thalia—and Nico knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of _that_ , too. A brittle laugh flutters from Jace’s throat. “You’re so _small_.”

He stands a head taller than his big sister. Nico doesn’t know much about the Thalia Grace of Jace’s universe—other than the fact that Thalia must be a daughter of Pluto and with the Huntresses.

This Thalia is Nico’s age. Still fifteen, at the cusp of her sixteenth birthday, sworn to a life away from the Great Prophecy. The one Percy was determined to take on himself so Nico would never have to—and the one that made Jace swear off fighting.

She stares at Jace, startled. Even Thalia Grace, Artemis’s Lieutenant and daughter of the King of the Heavens, doesn’t know how to react in this newfound emergence of a brother they all saw the grave of nearly a year ago.

And her speechlessness evidently makes Jace restless. The smile on his lips wilts with worry. “Thalia?”

Reyna snaps out of her stupor first. She turns her head to meet Nico’s gaze, and he feigns interest at the mixture of snow and dirt at his feet. He hears her voice for the first time in two summers—whispering something in Thalia’s ear to undo the spell cast by Jace’s appearance.

“Sorry,” Thalia says finally—stiffly—and she circles Jace from a careful distance. “This is a new one, Nico.”

Nico perks at the mention of his name, careful not to catch Reyna’s eye—but then he notices how Thalia’s expression mirrors someone looking at an art exhibit.

“You,” Thalia murmurs softly, “look so much like him.”

Jace smiles weakly—lacking in the luster and awe of before. “I’d hope so. I’m your brother.”

“Not quite.” Thalia’s eyebrows knit into a wrinkle. For all of the similarities often echoed about Percy and Thalia, this isn’t one of them. She reaches out—but pauses short of Jace’s shoulder. Slowly, Thalia curls her hand and points a thumb to herself. “Daughter of Zeus.”

She points to Jace.

“Son of Hades,” she finishes—then her gaze slowly lifts to meet Nico’s. It’s awkward, as they lock eyes upon each other. He realizes there wasn’t so much of a greeting between them, either.

“There’s still Beryl Grace,” Jace reminds her. “Our mother.”

Thalia’s expression shifts uncomfortably—one-part pity, another part unfamiliarity that makes a knot coil in Nico’s own stomach.

“I don’t use her name anymore,” she says heavily—and the weight of her words press on Nico’s heart, too. Jace’s smile wanes.

Nico can’t _help_ but look at Reyna now, catching her gaze and the silver parka that replaced her purple cloak. He curls his hand—which he realizes is still intertwined with Jace’s own—and jumps as Jace turns to meet his gaze.

“Let’s gather everyone,” Nico says quietly, when he finds his voice.

Everyone else is slow to wake. Annabeth and Percy sidle out of Cabin Three. Frank and Hazel are dressed and well-made—rising with the sun despite the time zone difference. Leo looks like he’s on his third cup of coffee. He looks up when Nico arrives at the Big House in a better state of dress and pets the seat beside him.

Piper throws her arms around Reyna and they murmur soft words to each other. She briefly glances in their direction—but judging by the way Leo frowns, Nico assumes another night has passed where Jason’s best friends aren’t seeing eye-to-eye.

“ _Ave_ , Praetor Zhang. Praetor Levesque.” Reyna salutes both of New Rome’s leaders, her lips curling into a smile.

Frank returns the salute. Hazel hugs her.

Jace returns to the main room just in time to watch Annabeth and Thalia engulf each other in a tight hug. His hair is still damp and clinging to his face. Gone is the orange Camp Halfblood shirt—and in its place is his original outfit—white shirt, black joggers, black boots, and leather jacket. The color of the fabric matches the charcoal hue of his eyes.

When Thalia pulls away from Annabeth, she scrutinizes Jace once more.

“Wow,” Percy remarks—and he claps a hand over Jace’s shoulder. “I think I finally see the family resemblance.”

The frock of their hair is parted in the same fashion. Jason wasn’t one who ever let his hair grow out—but this Jace was never trained with Camp Jupiter’s militance. It sticks up in wavy spikes, matching the discord of their Thalia.

Like Percy, Nico very much knows the image of Thalia, Daughter of Zeus, in her ripped black jeans and leather jacket filled with patchwork and pins of punk rock bands. Her silver circlet still rests at the crown of her head, where Jace fixates, while her parka lays on a cushion beside her.

They stare at each other like strangers—charcoal eyes against electric blue.

“I can’t say I ever imagined you in the Huntresses,” Jace says softly. His demeanor is reserved, lips pressed into a quaint, sad smile.

Thalia is awkward—but she tries to return the smile. “Can’t say I ever imagined you in leather.”

It eases the tension a little. Jace’s smile etches a little wider. “It was Dad’s.”

She nods slowly, raising her head up—then slowly brings it down. “Hades.”

Jace’s dad. Not hers.

Jace’s smile wavers ever so slightly, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah. Hades.”

Nico clears his throat, dispelling the tension as best he can. All eyes tack onto him—Reyna’s included. Thalia’s expression spills with a sort of relief—and Jace’s gaze lingers on the daughter of Zeus for a heartbeat longer before he pulls his gaze away, too.

There’s…something different about Jace’s eyes. Nico can’t quite place it.

“Jace has been with us for a couple of days now,” Nico explains. “I’m not sure how much Annabeth told you.”

Thalia tilts her head and flashes a look in Annabeth’s direction. “Just that Jason was back.”

“Not quite.” The next smile on Jace’s face is strained.

Thalia turns back, her expression reluctant—and echoes his sentiment. “Not quite.”

Reyna rises from her seat and places a hand on her lieutenant’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down and let Jace tell his story.”

“Yeah.” Thalia curls a hand over Reyna’s own and nods slowly. “Go ahead, Jace.”

Jace’s eyes seem to follow the gesture. He takes his place on the stool at the center of the room for the third day in a row, on display for all to see. He offers another smile like extending an olive branch. “I’m glad to see the two of you are still a couple, even if it’s not in New Rome.”

There’s a pregnant pause across the entire room.

Nico raises his head at the small gesture between Thalia and Reyna—and blinks.

There’s red across Reyna’s face, mouth hanging open, flabbergasted. She slowly plucks her hand off Thalia’s shoulder.

Her lieutenant, oblivious to the glow of Reyna’s cheeks, looks amused.

“Not together,” Thalia says. “Though RARA has been a great righthand since Phoebe died.”

Reyna’s expression is undeniable. She and Piper share a look first—and then Nico realizes she’s skirting his gaze.

“Oh,” is Jace’s only reply—though it’s perplexed. “Um. Okay.”

Thalia and Reyna nestle between Annabeth and Hazel. For how much Thalia and Jason contrasted each other in appearance, Nico sees the same temperate twinkle in Thalia’s eye as he often saw in Jason’s eyes as their son of Jupiter weighed decisions aboard the Argo II. He sees the resemblance in the way both Jace and Thalia lean, one clinging onto every word while the other speaks softly.

The explanation is short. Jace doesn’t utter a word that hasn’t already been said. The moment he stepped out of the shadows to Camp Halfblood, he hasn’t been able to step back in. They can’t figure out _why_ Jace arrived in this universe—and not even the God of Prophecies was able to offer sound advice.

War isn’t in their future. But so far, Jace’s visit has been mundane.

Every word uttered from his mouth and every gesture echoes of their Jason. It causes Nico’s heart to ache—but he wouldn’t call these things _eventful._ If anything, it hurts more that they can go about winter break as though Jace is a placeholder for their son of Jupiter.

Jace pauses from his explanation. For the first time, Nico realizes the other son of Hades hasn’t glanced in his direction. It’s easy to see the weathered lines beneath Jace’s eyes, and the tired wrinkle between his brows. He curls his hands against the stool, one foot propped beneath him.

“My Nico told me that Huntresses and Amazons often send girls to each other. They knew the existence of both camps,” Jace says, his voice soft. “Any chance you know anything about interdimensional travel, too?”

“Out of my area of expertise.” Thalia shakes her head. She pauses, her gaze raising slowly to Nico’s—then she turns back to Jace. “My first thought would be Hades, but—considering he’s your dad…”

Her voice trails off.

Jace frowns. “Why Dad?”

“He sent monsters and killed me.” Thalia’s expression twists with disdain.

Jace pales. “He did what?”

“Don’t worry,” she continues—her expression wry as she turns to meet Nico’s gaze. He doesn’t quite want to return it. “That’s probably _more_ than _fair_ since _my_ dad killed Nico’s mom.”

Her voice drips with a dry sarcasm that’s often echoed in Percy’s tenor. Nico smiles grimly, his chest tightening while Jace’s eyes widen and slowly gravitate back towards him.

“Fair’s a word for it,” Nico says, and his chest is tight.

“You died?” Jace asks, and his voice is painfully tense. He turns his gaze back to his sister.

“Not quite.” Thalia sighs, and she explains a tale Nico heard in passing in his first winter at Camp Halfblood. Thalia was the first child of the Big Three to make it to the borders of Camp Halfblood, with Luke and Annabeth in tow.

She was hunted after a grudge Hades long held for Zeus. At the nervous age of thirteen, she gave her life, and Zeus honored her sacrifice with a large pine tree that extended its branches and protected the rest of camp.

Jace doesn’t seem reassured after that.

“Zeus honored your sacrifice,” Jace concludes. “You escaped death.”

“I swear I start growing pinecones if I stand still long enough,” Thalia grumbles. She uncrosses her arms and then turns her gaze to Percy. “ _Turning into a tree_ didn’t take me out of the running for that stupid prophecy. That’s the only reason Dad did it. I made sure that decision was mine alone.”

“Thank you for that,” Percy remarks, and the corner of his lip curls with fond exasperation. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Thalia shrugs. “Call it a gentle nudge for you and Annabeth to finally get together.”

Percy looks ready to make another biting remark—but then his eyes fall to Nico, holding the same remorseful expression as the other night.

“It was either going to be Nico or me,” he says. “Easy choice.”

Nico’s cheeks tingle. There’s a dull flutter in his chest—one that doesn’t quite make his heart soar anymore, but he’s still put off by the weight of Percy’s words.

“The three of you protected each other,” Jace interjects—and his eyes make a round between all three of them. They stop momentarily at Nico—lingering with a gravity that makes Nico’s pulse race. There’s a warmth to the way his lip curls, contrasting the bags beneath his eyes. “You’re still close here.”

They’re not.

Nico raps his foot against the floorboard, and the intensity of Percy’s gaze seems to dissolve with a quiet shame—something he’s seen in small hiccups over the years ever since Tartarus, but he would prefer stay buried. Percy and he are in a _decent_ place right now, but Nico’s not sure if either of them are interested in being in a _great_ place.

Thalia ridiculed the Huntresses before they took Bianca. She sits here now with a tiara signaling her ranking as Artemis’s Lieutenant, after having recruited someone else Nico holds dear. Someone Nico can’t even muster the courage to look in the eye because he's afraid of what he’ll blurt out. The anger. The frustration. The begrudging abandonment that’s knotted so deeply in Nico’s heart, that he tries desperately to stifle.

“Not quite,” Nico says finally, echoing the sentiment uttered by Jace and Thalia, the not-really-Grace-Siblings, earlier.

“Not quite,” Percy agrees, and he peers back up to Nico again.

Thalia curls her hand over her bicep, the gesture looking eerily like the boy sitting across from her on a stool. “Hard to keep in contact with people while on the road with Lady Artemis, baby bro—”

She stops herself.

“Jace,” she corrects gently. “Whoops.”

Jace hangs onto the first name, leaning to the edge of his seat. His smile is…harsh, in a way. “Nico said Beth was the only way to contact you.”

Thalia nods, then turns to face Annabeth. They smile at each other. “Annie’s my little sister. We were together for a long time.”

“But I’m your brother, Thal.” Jace’s eyebrows furrow and his lips stretch wider—like he’s holding back a nervous laugh. At the mention of the _B_ word, Thalia’s poise falters, and she stares back up to him, confused.

Through the droll of his voice, Jace evidently realizes the error in his own words. His pale cheeks flourish pink.

“Jason’s your brother.” Jace corrects himself and there’s a crack in his voice, almost shameful. When Nico hears it, he raises his gaze to take in Jace again. The nervous energy of his hands, and the furrow of his eyebrow. “I…would’ve thought I… _he_ was enough for you to come sooner.”

She smiles at him, her expression tight.

“You’re as sweet as he was, Jace,” she says softly. “But my brother’s been dead for almost a year now.”

There’s another crack in Jace’s demeanor, his eyes widening a fraction before he lowers his gaze with acknowledgement.

It’s hard to measure his silence. But it’s long enough that Nico frowns.

“Jason seemed like he was a good guy,” Jace says finally, his voice too quiet to debate the steadiness of. He surveys the room gently, making a sweep of all the demigods that gathered within hours of his arrival. “I…keep hearing good things about him. Things that people regretted not saying.”

It's almost unnoticeable, but his eyes linger towards Nico a heartbeat longer than everyone else.

“It’s…been strange,” Jace admits. “Helping people grieve over a dead me. Call me selfish, but—” He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing together. “—I wanted to stay longer just in case you needed closure, too.”

Nico pauses. He thinks back to the look Jace gave him yesterday against the dim heat of the hearth, after spending a full day pushing off leaving. _Everyone_ has voiced their sentiment about Jace’s departure, which was tangled in the mess of Jason’s sudden death. He knows how upset _he_ was by it. The anguish he felt over Jason’s death was stronger, more palpable than _everything_ he’s ever felt for Will.

It was a realization for Nico, that maybe what he felt for Jason was _always_ stronger.

From the first moment, Jace opened his arms for Annabeth and Percy. For Apollo, and Piper, and Leo—and pieced together Nico’s own grief, when Nico was too afraid to say it aloud.

“I grieved,” Thalia finally says—and despite her insistence that they weren’t together, Reyna and she lock hands without even looking at each other. She gives the ex-praetor a soft squeeze—and falls quiet. “I screamed and threw things—but at the end of the day, Jason made his choices. Heroes have to do that.”

“Thalia, I…” Jace’s voice falls, twisting at a frustrated chord. “I never wanted to be a hero.”

The words are crisp. For most demigods, it’s the first sentence that rolls off the tongue after a string of misfortunes. Nico echoed that sentiment himself when he realized all of the triumphs and tragedies of Greek heroes continued past a deck of cards.

Percy’s biting humor is out of retaliation of their fate—a way to combat what was handed to them. After a disastrous battle with Alcyoneus, Hazel strived for a second chance to prove her worth—and Nico knew he earned his second chance, too.

To hear it from Jason is different.

Jason, who worried about failing a quest instead of commiserating at being _handed_ a quest. Who accepted Juno’s swap and did everything in his power to help unite both camps—and promised to visit both coasts.

It’s different, and Jace looks frustrated to have said it.

Piper and Leo look at each other for the first time from across the room.

Thalia’s expression shifts. Her eyebrows knit together once more, sympathetic. “That’s not really something we really get to choose.”

“You chose against it the moment you joined Artemis,” Jace refutes—and the edge of his tone is startling. “You and Bianca both.”

There’s a sequence. Nico perks at his sister’s name. Hazel looks over to him. Percy’s hands fall from across his chest. Annabeth and he look at each other, and Thalia blinks, settling back in her seat.

The lights start to rattle above them. The outlines of shadows seem to deepen each time the curtains billow against the windows.

“I—Jason and I never had a choice,” Jace continues, and his voice is wound tightly, like an over-wrung string against a bow. His hands fiddle with his seat. “We were _two_ , Thalia. Did—should we have—were we…supposed to decide whether or not we were okay with _dying_ in fourteen years?”

For the first time since Nico’s known Thalia Grace, her demeanor falters. She looks at a loss of words.

“You—Jason was _taken_ from me, Jace,” she says, and her voice is rigid. “When I woke up from being a tree, I thought I’d lost everything already. You were already _long dead_ to me. What was I supposed to do?”

Goosebumps rise across Nico’s skin. There’s a change in temperature.

“Be a part of Jason’s life _now_ ,” Jace snaps, his voice filled with suffocating urgency. Begging. He gestures a hand towards Nico without ever looking. “Take care of someone who lost his big sister the way you lost your little brother.”

The way Thalia’s gaze flits back to Nico this time makes Nico’s skin crawl. Her eyes are wide, evidently taken aback with each rebuttal—and no one stops Jace.

“You know in my universe,” Jace continues, “you, Reyna, and Percy all had a hand in raising my Nico? You never once let him feel like his sister was missing.”

Reyna’s gaze is fully on Nico now, but he still can’t quite look her way. Percy’s scrutiny is unsurprising now. Nico returns the glance, trying to imagine a life where they actually grew up together. Where Percy, Thalia, and Reyna were a constant in his lives—and can’t. But it’s very much the reality for this Jason, whose voice seems to crack with every second this world isn’t his own.

And Thalia stares at Jace, confounded.

“I’m,” she says, when she finds her voice, “with the Huntresses, Jace. I can’t just abandon them.”

Jace’s expression shrivels, his charcoal eyes wet. “So it’s just that much easier to abandon _me._ ”

His words are harsh. Thalia’s own expression falters and she stares back at Jace. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

Somehow, her confession is even worse. Jace stares at her, stunned, and the sheen of his eyes grows. He ducks his head.

“You’re right,” Jace says. “You’re not my sister. Mine would never wait until I was _dead_ to understand how I’m feeling.”

“That’s not fair,” Thalia snaps—and the volume of her voice is monumentally louder. Thunder rumbles outside—and the sting of electrons fill the air. She scowls, her eyes rippling with tears. “You can’t just expect me to know what’s going on in your head!”

“I don’t _expect_ you to know, Thal,” Jace protests—and he doesn’t raise the volume of his voice—he sits, as still as a corpse as Thalia waves her hands like currents of a wind. But then his eyebrows knit together, the tenor of his voice softening. “I just—I wish you _wanted_ to.”

“We were _separated_ , Jason! Juno _took_ you!” Thalia pauses, and her demeanor crumples. She rubs her temples. “I mean she—she took _him._ ”

“And you found him again,” Jace reminds her. “But you _stay_ with the Huntresses. You _choose_ them over your own brother.”

Thalia scowls at him. “They had my back when I thought I lost everything.”

Jace scoffs. His demeanor breaks, and he glares.

“Why wouldn’t his own sister want to get to know him,” he counters, “when he grew up thinking he had nothing?”

Thalia fumes. Electricity crackles from the tips of her fingers, and she bares her teeth angrily. She jabs a finger at Jace’s chest with the force of a dagger. “You know what, asshole? You _aren’t_ my brother. My brother would never sit here and _yell_ at me like a fucking wuss!”

Jace blinks, his brow still furrowed.

“Thalia—”

“Jace—”

Nico stands to his feet the same moment Reyna does. They stand parallel to Jace Grace and Thalia—who renounced that name long before she ever came a huntress—and stare at each other.

“Jason— _my_ _baby brother Jason_ —was perfect,” Thalia continues, her hands still crackling with ferocity. “The gods could mold the perfect hero out of clay and they’d still be a fucking anthill compared to my brother. I don’t _need_ to stand here and take your holier-than-thou attitude!”

Jace stares at her. “How would you even know when you _choose_ not to be around?”

Thalia’s scowl intensifies—but Jace stands to his feet, Nico’s hand fading from his side.

“Perfect means he’d never get in the way of his big sister’s happiness,” Jace continues, and his lips twist into a frown. “That—that he’s willing to put up being thrown around by the gods and be _charmspoken_ in a relationship for the better part of the year, and then be okay with being _dumped_ after laying his heart out. Being perfect _killed_ him.”

Her face falls.

“He shouldn’t have to be _perfect_ , Thal,” Jace continues, and his voice cracks as he stares at her, his eyes wet. “He just needed to be enough. Maybe he’d still be alive if you cared as much as he did.”

Thalia punches him with a fistful of electricity.

“Jace!” Nico shouts—but he knows better now. Thalia’s impact leaves nothing but a scorch mark on Jace’s t-shirt and a look of astonishment. There’s a gasp, and around the room, everyone stands to their feet.

Thalia, on the other hand, is still fuming. “Don’t you fucking dare put words in my mouth.”

She snatches her parka off the couch—then turns to Reyna.

“Let’s call the rest of the Huntresses. This was a waste of a trip.” Thalia turns her gaze to Annabeth next. “Sorry, Annie. Call me once this all gets figured out.”

The lightbulbs shatter. Despite the morning sun, darkness consumes the room, sucking in every stream and torch of light. The air is arid and cold that Nico’s throat burns as he breaths in an icy gust.

“Whoa there,” Leo mutters beside Nico—causing the latter demigod to jump. A ball of fire appears in his hands—but it’s swept away, blowing out like a candle into the darkness.

In the last streak of light, Nico catches a glance at Jace’s miserable demeanor—something that looks older than this morning. He cups his face, where Thalia hit him, stunned.

It’s heartbreaking.

“Jace,” Nico starts. He reaches out—but never makes contact.

The shadows whisper across the floorboard, darkness all-consuming. Nico feels a tug at his soul—like a rope attached to his heart.

For the first time in three days, Jace melts into the darkness and shadowtravels away.

*

“Thalia, you can’t leave.” Nico surprises even himself as he wedges himself between Artemis’s Lieutenant and the exit. The Big House is so dark that she bumps into him before she can realize there’s an obstacle.

“Not my fucking problem.” She glares up at him, fuming. “ _Move._ ”

Nico stares back at her, and a protective surge for Jace courses through his body. He points to the broken light fixtures, and the absence of sunlight around them—though it’s futile. “ _This_ is a problem, and it _wasn’t_ , up until you hurt him.”

He expects her to protest. Maybe Nico had grown used to the allotment of tears that flowed every time anyone came near Jace. Each and every reaction took Jace off guard in some fashion—but the fact his own sister didn’t react at all was the tipping point.

And for as few belongings Jason brought to Pasadena, Nico knows for a fact that a photo of his big sister was one of them. Thalia may insist that Jace isn’t her brother—but there’s no doubt in Nico’s mind that they care about Thalia— _any_ Thalia—in every universe.

And Thalia cares, too, even if she’s too proud to release her anger. She winces at his tone.

“Big brother,” Hazel suddenly says, “this darkness must go on for miles.” She stretches the blinds of the windows.

Behind them, Leo is snapping his fingers, trying to conjure a flame. Every attempt is met with a fickle ember that dissolves, not even a heartbeat later. Annabeth is flicking the switch of a flashlight from who-knows-where with no avail.

“You’re a son of Hades,” Thalia protests. “Can’t you fix this?”

Nico and Hazel look at each other through the darkness. Her eyes hold an answer Nico already knows.

“We can’t undo his shadows,” Nico affirms. He tries to demonstrate, but the nausea builds in his stomach—like trying to undo grains of sand in an overpacked container of dry cement. Nico feels his head pounding trying to pry them apart. Leo ignites a finger long enough to see the many confused faces around the room, and Annabeth’s flashlight glows with a waning light. Then—nothing.

“Um,” Frank interjects, “not to be a backseat camp leader, but you’ve got dozens of campers here for winter break. Someone should say something before panic ensues.”

“There might be a magical generator back at the bunker,” Leo says. He gives up trying to ignite a flame in the dark, but the scent of his smoldering fingers permeates through the air. “If someone with night vision wants to give me a lift so my noggin stays intact, we could give it a whirl.”

“I’ll go with you,” Piper volunteers. Through the dark, it’s clear to see Leo’s face twist with discomfort, while Piper persists. “I charmspoke Festus back to life. Maybe I can rub elbows with the generator, too.”

She pauses.

Then, as an afterthought, she adds, “If you want me there, Leo.”

“That’s a good idea, Piper.” Annabeth waves a hand around, searching for the daughter of Aphrodite’s shoulder in the darkness. “Frank and I will spread the word. Hazel, Piper, and Leo can work on a generator for camp—”

“And the rest of us,” Percy announces, “will go find Jace.”

Nico does a headcount of who the _rest of us_ entails. Percy and him. Thalia and Reyna. He grimaces.

Through the darkness, Thalia is doing the same. “Looks like you have it all figured out. Reyna and I will be getting the Huntresses _out of here_ now.”

She charges towards the door, but Nico braces himself. Thalia groans.

“Di Angelo, _move_!” Thalia’s hands smolder with ions, but the only hint of any electricity at the tips of her fingers is the echo of a crackling. “Why won’t you give up?”

Nico’s chest tightens. “Maybe because I know what it’s like not being able to say goodbye to my sister when she leaves with the Huntresses.”

The Big House falls so silent that Nico could hear a pin drop from California. The ache of Bianca—the one that pretends to lessen with time—surges full force. All eyes are on Nico now—and the ones that matter, the ones who _know_ —find his face from the grief in his voice.

Percy starts. “Nico—”

“Jace is still here.” Nico doesn’t let him finish. “Do you really want the last interaction you ever have with your little brother be _this_ one? Punching him in the face?”

Thalia’s expression changes. “He’s not…”

Her protest finally dies at the back of her throat.

Through the darkness, Reyna finds her lieutenant. Maybe she thinks the shadows conceal it—but Nico sees the shine in her eyes. The subtle sheen invoked by Thalia Grace alone as she finds Thalia’s hand.

They may not be a couple, but they cared about each other nonetheless.

“I know Jason, Thal,” Reyna whispers. “He never stopped telling me how much he wished had a sister of his own when Hylla visited.”

Coming from Reyna, the thought is finally cemented in Thalia’s head. She doesn’t rebuke, or snap. There’s not even a scowl on her lips.

The silence is telling.

“Well, if we’re all in agreement,” Percy says, “let’s all get paired up with our seeing-eye Hades-Pluto kid. Yeah?”

Leo supplies them with a long rope, courtesy of his toolbelt. Nico is resigned to touch—so the fiery warmth of the son of Hephaestus’s palm startles him, but it’s quick before Leo relinquishes his grip.

“My bad,” he says. “Find our boy, alright, di Angelo?”

Nico is reluctant—but slowly, he nods. “I promise.”

Piper stops him with a kiss on the cheek—though he isn’t sure why.

“Can we talk?” Reyna asks him, as Nico works on securing the rope on the four of them. He finds himself at one end of the rope and the daughter of Bellona on the other—with Percy and Thalia in the middle for a strange game of follow-the-leader.

Nico decides he doesn’t want to listen to the former two demigods. It stirs memories of Westover Hall, right after Annabeth fell off a cliff, and right before he lost a sister to the Huntresses. Except—they’re more civil this time. Age has matured them. All of them.

“About what?” Nico asks.

Reyna looks hesitant under the darkness. It must be easier to show her emotions when no one else can see. “I haven’t seen you since last summer. I can’t help but wonder, if your statement about Bianca—”

“What about it?” Nico’s voice is terse.

“—is about me, too,” Reyna finishes, as though there was never a hiccup in her voice.

Nico’s skin prickles, knowing just how on the nose she is. Even beneath the shadows, Reyna’s look is pointed—it always has been. Nico’s feared this confrontation so much _because_ of how well Reyna has been able to read him, even through the darkness.

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” Nico says—but the tightness of his voice betrays his words. As he tries to pull away, counting the feet between each demigod, Reyna reaches out and brushes a hand over Nico’s hand. Her graze makes him falter.

“I joined for myself,” Reyna starts to elaborate.

“So did Bianca.” Nico shirks out of her grasp. “I get it, Reyna. I wasn’t a factor in this decision.”

He never is.

But much like Jason, Reyna is persistent. She simply reaches for his other hand—and Nico watches as her gaze raises to Thalia, even through the darkness.

“Jason’s death hurt her as much as Apollo’s punishment hurt Lady Diana, Nico,” Reyna says, her voice low. “She needed me.”

Nico feels an echo of that rage from February. The one that started the moment he couldn’t feel Jason’s life anymore.

“But,” Reyna continues, “if you need me too—”

“Reyna.” Nico cuts her off. “Are you happy?”

She stares at him through the darkness, perplexed. But—then she nods. “The Huntresses…there’s no in-fighting like there was with the Legion. No political disputes. Frank and Hazel have shaped the Legion so much better than I could’ve dreamed, but—”

Reyna pauses.

“When I lend my strength to the Huntresses, and Thalia,” she finishes, “I feel safe leaning on them, too.”

There’s a quaint relief in her voice. For all the strain of delivering the Athena Parthenos, Reyna’s struggles as praetor didn’t begin in Epirus. It started the moment Jason disappeared, and she was left to hold up the entire New Roman Army on her own. It was only made worse when the ballistae fired.

Nico doesn’t agree with all of it. Little girls being recruited into a group of huntresses before they truly understand what it means to be a demigod isn’t a safe haven. But he knows Reyna values her pack, no matter who’s in it.

“I wasn’t happy when I heard,” Nico admits. “But you have your own life to live. Your decisions don’t revolve around me.”

Reyna looks doubtful.

“Just…” Nico swallows hard. There’s a prickling of tears at the back of his eyes, but he refuses cry. “Be safe. You’re not out of danger just because you’re immortal now.”

She hugs him, like she did two summers ago. Reyna feels smaller since the last time—but the fact that she’s a Huntress and _still alive_ is a relief—and Nico exhales, relishing in the fact that the last time he saw Reyna wasn’t the _last_ time.

“I missed you too,” she says, and his heart flutters.

“So you’re leaning on Thalia now?” Nico asks. He can _feel_ the heat radiating from her cheeks.

“That’s—” Reyna pulls away and clears her throat. “Ahem. I—”

“Nico. Reyna.” Percy’s voice cuts them off, much to the daughter of Bellona’s relief. “Are we going or not?”

Hazel finds him in the darkness before they separate. She opens her mouth.

“Nothing stupid,” Nico promises.

She eyes him warily—but concedes with a kiss on his cheek. “Nothing stupid.”

“I thought you could sense his soul,” Percy remarks as they start walking past buildings. “Can’t you just shadowtravel us there?”

Nico can see the Apollo Cabin flickering like Annabeth’s flashlight, trying to summon some semblance of light in the darkness. For a brief instance, Will glances in his direction—then his ex-boyfriend is left in the darkness.

Nico shakes his head and sidesteps a rock. “Watch your step. Normally, yes—but since this darkness is his doing, it just feels like I’m _drowning_ in him.”

“Oh.” Percy pauses. “Like a compass that can’t point north.”

Nico contemplates this. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“Wow, Seaweed Brain,” Thalia teases. “Look at you, flaunting that high school diploma.”

“NRU must be kind to you,” Reyna remarks.

“Very funny,” Percy grumbles.

“Percy’s always been smart,” Nico counters offhandedly. “He’d be dead by now otherwise.”

He flushes—because he can _hear_ the cogs turning in Percy’s brain. “That’s really nice of you to say, Nico.”

“Nico’s one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet,” Reyna insists, and Nico’s face only glows darker.

He notices Thalia doesn’t echo the sentiment.

Nico focuses hard, but the longer he searches for Jace’s soul—his essence, at the pit of the haystack—he grows dizzy. He fiddles with the rope tied around his waist nervously while Percy, Thalia, and Reyna are calling out Jace’s name.

It feels too familiar. Walking in darkness. Searching for _him_ , when everything else is encumbered in shadows and poisonous air.

“So…are we going to talk about it?” Percy tethers Nico, whether he knows it or not.

Nico exhales, turning his head in the woods to get a better sense of what’s around him. “Talk about what?”

Percy falls quiet. “Bianca, Nico.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Nico’s skin bristles with discomfort, and he makes a sharp turn that causes the rest of his party to yelp as he drags them far away from camp.

“Nico,” Percy continues anyway, “Thalia and I were both there when it happened. We—the three of us—we never had this conversation.”

There was a semblance of this conversation way back when. It ended with a crack right down the wall of the Dining Pavilion—something that Nico occasionally finds himself staring at, when Jason’s death makes him too restless.

“We don’t have to have this conversation, Percy,” he insists. “It’s not important.”

“But—”

“Percy,” Thalia interrupts. “Nico doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.”

A bitter lump drops in the pit of Nico’s stomach.

“Thank you,” he grumbles aloud, but not quite to anyone in particular.

But again, Percy doesn’t let the subject drop. “But we _should_ , Nico.”

“We don’t have to,” Nico urges.

“But—”

“Percy,” Reyna says. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Percy insists. “It isn’t.”

“It’s _fine_ , Percy.” Nico sighs.

“But, Nico—”

“Jackson,” Thalia says, and she raises her voice. “Just drop it.”

“Why?” Nico finally whirls around to look Percy fully in the eye. He feels Percy stop—and Thalia and Reyna collide straight into Percy from behind. “Why is it so important that we talk about it _right now_ , Percy?”

Percy can’t see him in the darkness—but Nico has faith in his sentiment. Percy isn’t stupid. The dire demeanor of his face is just _painful_ to look at. Percy can _hear_ the frustration in Nico’s tone—especially because at this point, Nico can’t bring himself to hide it.

“Because it’s happened twice now,” Percy says, and his voice tight with frustration. “We’ve all gone our separate ways after two wars now and—and something bad happened to both you _and_ Jason. You fell down to Tartarus and Jason _died._ I couldn’t protect either one of you.”

Nico would’ve given anything to hear something like that two summers ago—but he’s too smart to let it go to his head now. Those feelings have weathered for the better.

“I’m touched you think so highly of me, Percy, but it isn’t your job to _protect_ me,” Nico reasons. “Look at where that landed Jason.”

Percy’s eyes glisten, and his demeanor hardens. “He was the best of us. He deserves to be here.” 

Gods. If only.

“He’s dead now,” Nico says, and his voice is hard, “so none of us would have to be.”

“I know, but—” Percy’s voice falters, and his eyebrows furrow together. “Maybe Jace was right. Who puts that kind of fate on a _two-year-old_? He wasn’t even potty-trained before the Legion took him in. His death…it—”

“It was unfair?” Nico finishes for him. “Because the gods meddled? Because Zeus turned Apollo into a mortal and Jason got swept into helping him?”

Percy stares back at him, his eyebrows furrowed together, but doesn’t say a word.

“I know,” Nico says. “Trust me, Percy. I _know._ ”

“Will says you went into a rage when Jason died.” Percy hesitates. “He said it was as bad as Bianca.”

Nico freezes.

Thalia suddenly leans over—despite them being unable to see each other—and there’s a speculative look on her face. She arches an eyebrow in the air. “I had no idea you and my brother were so close, Nico.”

“Because you’re never around,” Nico says, and his voice is sharp. He turns his attention back to the son of Poseidon. “Why do you know that?”

Even in the dark, Percy flashes a look of disbelief. “Because I asked.”

Nico fists the rope tied at his waist, feeling more knots in his chest and stomach than around himself—and keeps walking. Percy follows on his heels.

“Look—obviously I’m not your boyfriend. I mean—your ex-boyfriend. And I’m not Jason, either—”

“Yes, Percy,” Nico bites, “so far we’ve established what you’re not.”

Percy pauses momentarily—but then continues. “I just—I know how you got after Bianca passed, Nico. We all do. If…I…” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “It doesn’t need to get that bad again, okay? I’m here for you. Annabeth and I both are.”

Too late. Nico bites the inside of his mouth, refusing to let the two little words slip between his lips. He feels something swelling in his chest—something uncomfortable and unfamiliar—but he’s scared, because it’s not a gutwrenching knot, either.

“You,” he says slowly, “don’t owe me any favors, Percy.”

“But I do,” Percy insists. “Nico, I promised—”

“Percy, I was _ten_ when I _made_ you make that promise,” Nico says—and despite the ferocity he feels, his voice shakes. “I was ten and impressionable and I didn’t understand the perils of demigod life yet. I didn’t understand just how easily someone like us can just _die._ You were already shouldering a lot, and I was just—some _kid._ It’s not your job to take care of me.”

“Should it have it have been?” Percy protests—and the rope grows taut as Percy stops. “Nico, you were a _kid_ and you’d just lost your sister. Thalia and I were there. We know how much she loved you. Jace said the three of us had a hand in raising you, and I can’t help but think—”

“About how differently life would be?” Nico cuts him off. “Percy—”

“Nico—let me finish what I’m trying to say.” Percy’s frustration is evident.

This time, Nico actually halts. He feels his cheeks warm, and he turns around slowly. “Go on.”

Relief spills across Percy’s face. At first, Nico is doubtful the other demigod knows what he wants to say—but then Percy grabs onto the rope behind him—to the tether between Thalia and himself, and then he swallows.

“Look, when you ran away, I promised myself I’d never let the prophecy be about you. But maybe—no, not maybe.” Percy’s eyebrows furrow. “That was bare minimum of what I could’ve done for you. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count, Nico.”

There’s a grateful tone to his voice, and the heat spills across Nico’s cheeks.

“I can’t speak for Thalia on this, but—I want to be your friend. Reyna’s right. You’re a sweet kid, Nico. And I’m—I’m not perfect. I’ve messed up a lot.” Percy’s expression hardens. “I mean, I _wish_ I could do whatever Jason did, or say whatever Jason said for the two of you to be friends. You two got close in one summer. I had five years to be good to you, and I…”

He trails off.

“You had a lot going on, Percy,” Nico repeats—but there isn’t as much verve to his voice. His tone is soft, and aged.

Percy finds him in the dark anyway, placing both hands on Nico’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Nico. I should have treated you better.”

Nico is surprised at the contact—but he doesn’t shirk away. “Water under the bridge.”

“But—”

“No. My turn.” Nico bites his lip. “You. You don’t have to apologize because I’m not _angry_ about it anymore, Percy. I’m not that little kid anymore. You were _fourteen_. If you’d ask me a year ago what I’d asked you—”

“You would’ve done it,” Percy blurts out. “You kept Reyna and Hedge safe.”

Nico glares. He’s not sure if Percy gets the message—but then the son of Poseidon pats him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Sorry. Go on.”

“I would’ve been _terrified._ Reyna and I were fighting for our lives every moment we popped up somewhere.” Nico plucks Percy’s other hand off his shoulder. “And if Estelle were there, too—I’d sooner kill myself than let something happen to her. So I get it. This—this weight you’ve been carrying…you don’t need to anymore. If you _want_ to be my friend, Percy, then be my friend. But don’t do it because you feel obligated to. I don’t need that.”

Percy’s other hand falls to his side. He stares in surprise, while Nico turns to keep their trail moving. “You know about Estelle?”

Nico tugs them out of the way of a fallen branch. His cheeks flourish. “Your mom invites me over for dinner on occasion.”

Percy makes a sound. “On _occasion?_ ”

“Once every other week, since you went off to college.”

There’s a shuffling of footsteps, then Percy is walking ahead of him, as though trying to play catch up. “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”

Nico yanks Percy back. “Because I didn’t want you to feel like you _owe_ me anything.”

He doesn’t look up to see what’s on Percy’s face—but Percy walks at his heels. “Well—that’s totally fine, but don’t think you’re usurping sloppy joe night just because I’m not there.”

Nico rolls his eyes—but his chest feels lighter. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Percy.”

They walk in slower steps—but it’s no longer follow-the-leader. Percy and he walk side-by-side.

“If anything’s ever bothering you,” Percy finishes softly, just for the two of them to hear, “my mom’s a good listener. She’s kind of an expert at this sort of thing. If you don’t want it to be me, I mean. And that’s okay, too.”

Again, Nico’s cheeks burn. Often more than not, there’s a grain of salt that he’s forced himself to taste every time Percy has spoken with him—the tiny bitter taste at the back of his throat to remind himself of Percy’s well-intent—but for some reason, it diminishes.

“Thanks, Percy,” Nico says quietly.

“You’re welcome, Nico. Seriously.”

The longer they go, the dryer the grass is. The air is _cold_ —but not from the New York winter. Trees have withered and decayed, and Nico finds the oxygen thinner the further they walk. It reminds him of Persephone’s Garden when his stepmother leaves for the spring and summer.

“We must be getting close,” he remarks. “The trees are sagging here more than at camp.”

“I can’t imagine the nymphs are too happy about this,” Reyna says. She touches a tree—and immediately, a tree branch descends from the sky. Thalia pulls her out of the way before it can make impact.

“Careful, RARA,” she says.

Reyna is silent for a moment. Then, “Thanks.”

Nico takes a second to look over his shoulder—but notices Reyna purposefully looking in the opposite direction.

“Jace must be pretty upset to cause a literal eclipse,” Percy notes. “I wonder if my hair will salt and pepper like my sister’s.”

“Pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen until you reach at least thirty, Seaweed Brain,” Thalia points out. “Nico, have you ever done anything like this?”

“Things, yes. Not this.” Nico tugs on the rope and guides them around a fallen tree. He pauses. “I…try not to let things get this bad. Not anymore.”

Between Mr. D and Hazel—and even Will, on a good day—Nico tries _very hard_ for it not to get this bad. It only took one visit from Jace to break some of his better habits. His routines. Right now, however, Nico’s just worried at how _deep-rooted_ this darkness is for the other son of Hades.

They keep walking, with the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“Bianca would be proud of you, Nico,” Thalia says. “How far you’ve come.”

Nico stops again. Percy bumps straight into him. The irritation boils in Nico’s stomach—and this time, he can’t help himself. He whirls around. “You know, of all people here, you’re the _last_ person I want to hear say her name.”

Thalia’s demeanor scrunches. She looks tense again, like she did with Jace. “I’m _just_ saying she would’ve been proud of how much you’ve grown, Nico. She was a good person.”

“She was,” Nico agrees, and he narrows his gaze. He hears Percy gulp beside him. “Up until she joined the Huntresses.”

She finds him in the darkness and her jaw clenches. “She was a good huntress, too.”

“She was _twelve._ She knew even less than I did before Artemis and Zoe convinced her to join the Huntresses,” Nico snaps with ire, and he scowls. “She didn’t know how to nock a bow. She probably couldn’t pronounce half of the names on the Olympian court if you showed them to her. At least when you took Reyna, she knew what she was getting into. All that mattered to the Huntresses was that Bianca was a _girl._ ”

Reyna’s demeanor twists. “Nico, I thought—”

“I can forgive you and be angry at Thalia at the same time,” Nico says dismissively. “Those are two separate things.”

“Oh,” Thalia says, and she jabs a finger at him. It crackles momentarily with electricity, so Nico can see her bare her teeth angrily—but then diminishes with the eclipse. “You’re _angry_ with me.”

Nico laughs, and it feels as brittle as Jace’s own tenor was. “You spent _so much time_ ridiculing the Huntresses the moment they appeared, and by the time Percy came back, I learned that you _joined_ them. How much of a _hypocrite_ are you?”

A storm brews above them. Nico can hear the thunder—even if the lightning only gets absorbed in the darkness. Thalia scowls at him once again.

“Hey now—” Percy sidles between them—and Nico shirks him away. “Nico, Thalia—this isn’t the time.”

“No, Percy—you wanted to talk about it? I’m talking about it.” Nico’s hands coil into fists.

“I joined to honor the fallen. Like Zoe. Like _Bianca_ , di Angelo.” Thalia jabs another finger at him. “I didn’t make that same promise Percy did, okay? I had my own things going on after being a fucking tree for almost a decade. You weren’t my responsibility.”

“No,” Nico spats, “that big sister instinct must’ve died when you thought Jason did.”

There’s no electricity crackling at her fists now. There’s rage surging through her eyes, and she yanks him by the front of the shirt. _“Say that again._ I dare you.”

“Thalia,” Reyna interjects sharply, and she touches the daughter of Zeus’s shoulder. “Let go of him.”

“No,” Thalia snaps. “If di Angelo insists on being a _brat_ , then _let him._ ”

“You don’t even know _half_ the things I’ve done trying to resurrect Bianca—or how many times I _still_ have to remind myself that she’s not coming back,” Nico snaps—and his voice is steady. For all of the ways his heart has broken for his big sister, he knows the one constant is that he’ll still miss her. “Do you know what I’d give to find out Bianca was alive again? Jason came back in your life and you _still_ choose the Huntresses over your own brother.”

Thalia huffs with aggravation. “Jace isn’t—”

“ _I’m not talking about Jace_.” Nico cuts her off. “Everyone keeps talking about how _bad_ it got for me, and—and how _worried_ they are that I’ll do something _stupid_ again—but you had your brother _right there._ You said you thought you lost _everything_ , but you didn’t change _anything_ when you got him back! You treated him being alive like it was _nothing_ and went back to recruiting more girls, like my sister, just so they could die on a battlefield for a goddess who could care less if they left a boy behind—lover, brother, or _whatever._ ”

Her grip weakens on the collar of his shirt. Her expression is grim—and the air is moist, with the anger of her storm. “Bianca died a hero, Nico. She made her choices too.”

“She was _twelve_. Jason was _two_ when they told him what his life would entail,” Nico snaps. “Percy was right. Just because they made their choices about their death doesn’t mean they were fair. Jace is upset because of how _accepting_ you are of his death.”

Thalia’s grip is almost nonexistent now. She stares at him, her brow furrowed—and Nico is able to slip out of her grasp.

“You think he would still be alive,” she surmises, “if I left the Huntresses.”

Nico’s chest aches—but he doesn’t let the pain linger. It’s another _what-if_ that makes the sting of Jason’s death continue with time.

“I don’t know,” he admits—and his voice is hoarse now. The storm dulls above them as Thalia’s anger wanes in favor of grief. “But I can tell you he would’ve been happy.”

The air goes back to being rigid. The clouds are silent, and they return to the nocturnal eclipse caused by Jace Grace, son of Hades. Her eyebrows remain furrowed. A hollowed breath flutters from her lips—and Nico watches, as Reyna searches for her lieutenant’s hand again, instinctive.

“I never got to say goodbye,” she mutters in a voice smaller than her stature. It molds to the back of her throat, evidently familiar. “That’s twice now.”

A lump swells in Nico’s throat. The anger withers in his stomach.

“Jace isn’t Jason,” he says softly, “but he waited this long, so you’d have that chance, Thalia.”

Reyna squeezes the daughter of Zeus on her shoulder. “He’s been waiting for you to say _hello_ ever since we got here.”

Thalia raises her head, doubtful. Nico’s not familiar with this one—the crumpled image of a big sister who lost her little brother. It’s so foreign to him that he wonders just how wedged it is in Thalia’s past as she was determined to move forward.

“Nico,” she says softly. “I—”

A wave of despair hits them full force. Nico doesn’t know how else to describe it—the brunt of it bulldozes Nico, _drowning_ and _suffocating_ him until it moves past him, yanking tears with it at the corners of his eyes. Nico’s heart bursts in his chest, ready to _die._

His knees buckle beneath him. Thalia and Reyna steady each other—and Percy props an uncapped Riptide against the snow in order to steady himself.

“Nico,” he asks, his voice exhausted. “Are we close?”

The back of Nico’s throat dries. His chest _hurts_ , like a stab wound.

“Nico,” Reyna says—and she jostles him.

“No,” he says finally, and his own voice feels foreign to him. “That would’ve hurt more if we were close.”

Thalia curses under her breath. Her fist crackles—long enough for her own anguish to show against her face, and for the frustration to glitter in her blue eyes—then she ushers them forward, tugging at the rope. “Lead the way, di Angelo.”

The waves of anguish only get worse the _closer_ they get—like the pulse of a racing heart. Nico feels it all—the frustration, anxiety, and apprehension.

As they get closer, Nico can _see_ it.

A wave hits them—and Nico hears the visceral sound of car tires shrieking against asphalt. He feels the _SLAM_ of a car hitting a tree—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Thalia hisses.

—and his stomach fills with sickening nausea as the scent of liquor drenches his nostrils and causes his eyes to burn. Nico sees _red_ and _blood_ —spilling down a woman’s arm, her head through the windshield in the driver’s seat of a car.

There’s a child in the front seat, buckled unsafely in an infant seat—no older than the age of two. _“Mommy?”_

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” Thalia growls this time—and she charges half a step faster than the rest of them.

Nico matches her pace, his heartbeat erratic at his chest. He clutches the rope, letting it _tether_ him beneath the darkness, and feels the edges of Percy’s fingers against his own, as the son of Poseidon tries to keep grounded, too.

Each pulse ages the trees. Thicker, and older, until they want to wilt. The air is stale and unbreathable—and Nico’s eyes leak with cold tears.

_“I’m scared_ ,” whimpers a voice in Nico’s ears, small and young and feeble. _“I don’t want to be a h-hero._ ”

There’s a hand that strokes the head of little Jace, holding him in a close embrace and shielding him from everything else around him. Nico can hear Percy and Thalia’s breath halt as little Jace—no more than seven or eight—looks up to the face of Luke Castellan.

_“I’ll be your hero_ ,” Luke promises—in a voice so sweet and impressionable that Nico can _feel_ Jace’s heart flutter.

There’s a coldness to the next wave.

_“You don’t want to be a hero,_ ” Nineteen-year-old Luke insists, _“and you never wanted to be a son of Hades. Let’s use that and tear Olympus down brick-by-brick, Jason._ ”

Eleven-year-old Jace’s heart trembles—because it’s fickle. It’s not sure where it’s supposed to go—

“C’mon,” Nico says, and he’s sprinting now while Luke’s name is still processing on Percy and Thalia’s ears after so many years.

Jace may not be sure where his heart wants to go—but Nico knows firsthand what becomes of it.

They get more waves of Jace’s childhood—the most _bitter_ and _cold_ memories doused in the despair that came with darkness.

There’s an image of a Bianca—a different Bianca—that stalls Nico. Twelve years old, with the same mottled freckles across her face as she entered Camp Halfblood alone, filled with anguish and sorrow under heavy rain.

_“I,”_ she whispers, broken, to a twelve-year-old Jace, _“thought he might’ve beat me here.”_

Nico’s vision blurs. He chokes on a sob. Even in misery, her voice is a sweet trill that _begs_ for his presence— something Nico hasn’t heard in a long time.

Reyna grabs his hand in the dark. Percy nudges him in the back—and Thalia pulls by the rope.

“C’mon,” Percy echoes, and he finds Nico’s face in the darkness.

Another wave of despair and emotions. Bianca leaving Jace beneath an oak tree—the pinnacle of Camp Halfblood in Jace’s universe, instead of Thalia’s guardian pine. She leaves with the Huntresses—a smug Zoe Nightshade, who’s happy to have a powerful demigod on her side no matter the universe. Jace feels as abandoned as he did when Luke left—alone once again to be groomed for the Great Prophecy.

There’s no anger. Only sorrow. Whatever rage Jace feels about Bianca’s departure is—is stifled, for the sake of fulfilling this prophecy. Defeating Kronos and having to finally face the reality of having to kill Luke.

Emotions didn’t save the world.

They find Jace at the edge of camp, where the darkness is so heavy that Nico can’t see the ground beneath his feet. He’s running in a field of space without stars, towards a black hole while the shadows are livid around Jace Grace, son of Hades.

“Jace!” Nico shouts.

When Jace turns around, Nico’s stomach drops. Tears stain the edges of Jace’s face, his face gaunt and eyes an abysmal black. His hands are shaking at his side—trembling feebly despite the width of his stature, and he’s rasping for air.

It’s nothing like the somber boy Nico met in the woods three days ago. The kind-hearted soul that radiated so much of Jason Grace that Nico sprinted the entire length of Camp just to find him.

This one looks scared. Mortified—

And like he’s trying his best not to be.

“Dude!” Percy shouts. “You gotta calm down, Camp Halfblood’s gonna end up in the Underworld at this rate!”

“I—I—I know,” Jace shouts back—and his voice is strained and congested. He doesn’t sound as calm as he did before—his voice shakes as much as his body does—as his hands do, and his eye seem to dart everywhere but the sounds of their voice. “I-I just—I’m t-trying—”

“No,” Nico interjects. “Let it out, Jace.”

Thalia, Reyna, and Percy all stare at him like he’s crazy—but then again, there isn’t anything new about that. Thalia nudges him forward.

“You’ve got this,” she says. 

Nico unknots the rope at his waist. He skirts forward, his heart shaking in a fashion he’s only instilled in other people—and another wave of despair hits Nico hard, square off his feet.

_Jace, on a battlefield, adorned in celestial bronze armor on the eve of his sixteenth birthday. Thirteen beads at his clavicle, like the number on their father’s cabin—something that didn’t exist in Jace’s universe. It wouldn’t—not yet. Not for a long time._

_Dead bodies in the dozens at his feet—and the scent of blood thick in his nostrils—more bloodcurdling than Beryl Grace’s last bottle of liqueur spilled on the floor of her overpriced car. The camp beads are heavy around Jace’s neck—like a noose—_

_And his demeanor is cold. Colder, than Nico’s ever seen Jason Grace. Frigid, as Jace clutches his stygian iron sword in his fist._

_“We’re not done,” this Jace snarls—and the bodies, oozing in blood, tremble._

_Silena Beauregard’s silhouette twitches. Michael Yew’s body shakes. Lee Fletcher makes a ghoulish sound—_

“I’m sorry,” present Jace gasps—and his demeanor is nothing like the stoic boy beneath a bronze helm. His face is stained with tears, and his eyes are frazzled and mad, as his hands peel at the wooden gate of Camp. “I don’t—this should go away, if I just—i-if I leave—”

_There’s screaming beside him. Annabeth screaming._

“Jace,” Nico starts.

“It’s fine, Nico,” Jace insists, “I just—I’ll fix this—”

“Jace,” Nico urges again—and this time, he pulls Jace’s hands away from the wooden gate. He sucks in a breath—preserving air for himself while the rest of Jace’s powers—enhanced by the Curse of Achilles—wants everything around them to wither into nothing—to truly represent King Hades’s power and realm. Nico’s eyes sting with tears—because he feels Jace’s apprehension surge through him, like a conduit.

And Jace is shaking—far worse upon contact than from a distance.

Nico’s heart aches. He’s never wanted to cry _someone else’s_ tears before.

Jace stares at him with a loud desperation—something in his eyes that somehow refuses to make it past his lips.

“Let it go, Jace,” Nico urges. He squeezes Jace’s hands with an urgency, and he chokes on his breath. “Just—let it all out.”

Even under duress, trembling with shallow breath, Jace shakes his head. “Nico, I d-don’t think—”

“Stop stifling yourself!” Nico snaps. “Just—stop putting others first—and _feel_ , Jason—you _deserve_ that much.”

Another wave of grief and anguish slaps Nico fully—but his grip is tight around Jace’s hands, fingers deeply knotted together.

Nico sees it. The sickening gift of _blood_ on sixteen-year-old Jace’s hands—drenching his shirt, staining his armor, soaking his knees. He _hears_ a knife hit the floor, and recounts Annabeth’s bloodcurdling screams right at Jace’s ears, yelling _HE HAD A CHOICE._ He feels Jace’s heart shatter, as reality sets in.

Luke Castellan, Jace’s first love, is dead.

Silena Beauregard, Lee Fletcher, Michael Yew, Charles Beckendorf— _all dead._

Bianca di Angelo—dead, despite forsaking a prophecy and echoing another daughter of Zeus’s footsteps. The steps Nico knows so clearly with their Thalia.

He sees Jace wandering in a darkness, coveted in shadows—before dropping—far, far down in Tartarus, where the pits of hell liked to remind the blond son of Hades of his sins. Where it hissed for him to just _die_ already in a way that Nico is so painfully familiar with.

And with Tartarus came a reel of nightmares that knew no end: of Luke dying, over and over again, of traveling to find Bianca’s dead body, of watching all of the faces that loved Jason Grace flinch with terror and disgust as he selfishly reanimated cold bodies that should’ve found peace instead—

—of watching his big sister with dark, charcoal eyes falling to the pits of Tartarus, with a hand locked around Reyna’s, of driving a sword through a different Nico di Angelo with the intent of death that wasn’t Jace’s own—

—and a numbing sense of isolation, so akin to Tartarus, that Jace felt when he arrived _here_ , in Camp Halfblood again.

Where _everything_ is just _different_ and _suffocating_.

Where Praetor Thalia Grace’s, _“I had to be a good big sister. I thought I had a two-year-old little brother who’d come to see me someday at Camp Jupiter.”_

Is a contrast to Lieutenant Thalia, daughter of Zeus’s, _“_ _You **aren’t** my brother. My brother would never sit here and yell at me like a fucking wuss!”_

Nico chokes.

Where, “ _I don’t like being touched. Not by people I’m not familiar with_ ,” is different from holding the hand of Nico di Angelo, son of Juno and Jupiter at the edge of a campfire, near _home_ on a crisp winter night.

Where Jace can strum the inner forearm of his boyfriend and touch the beads of his heart and life against the wrist of his beloved’s before they intertwine fingers, and laugh between kisses.

Nico lets go when it becomes too much.

The darkness dissipates, light suddenly glowing against the forest. Trees sprout back to life, as though never affected at all. Reyna, Thalia, and Percy all suddenly jump from the emergence of the sun—and the snow is littered with their footsteps.

Jace crumples to the ground, with his head between his knees, dry-heaving. It’s the loudest sound for miles.

Nico forces his own shock away. When he drops to Jace’s level, the other demigod leans into him almost instinctively, shaking.

“Sorry,” Jace rasps, but his eyes are at the ground. “I—sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” Nico whispers firmly, when he finds his voice. “Let it out.”

Jace sobs, for a long time, his head covered with his palms. He doesn’t stifle his emotions in the darkness again—can’t. All he has is his hands to hide his face, and Nico’s palm at his spine.

“I hate it here,” Jace sputters, and he clasps his hands in front of him. “So, so much—I h-hate it.”

“I know,” Nico says, and he clenches a hand around Jace’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jace, I’m—I-I’m sorry.”

At _that_ apology, Jace looks up, defeated. His eyes are rimmed red, brow furrowed. “I want to go home, Nico. _Please_.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees—and his voice is sober. “We’ll get you there.”

No more delays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did! Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, there is one goddess that was pretty upset by your death,” Apollo says. He strums his ukulele again. “Frankly, I was surprised she could feel anything at all. Maybe she has something to do with it.”
> 
> “Who?” Nico asks.
> 
> “His patron, of course,” the Sun God continues. His blue eyes glint, looking overbearingly bright—but still sympathetic in the wake of Jason. “Our stepmother.”

After the aviary, they go for ice cream. After time with Thalia, Beth, and Roman Percy, Jason relishes in the afternoon with Praetor Nico. Jason finds himself comparing both Nicos without meaning to. The way their nose twitches, and the way they gesture with their hands. This one is more tactile than the one Jason is used to. Each touch is instinctive, while the ones Jason is familiar with was often earned.

The sight of Camp Jupiter is as familiar to Jason as it is unfamiliar. The campers feel more jovial. As they catch sight of Praetor di Angelo, they all drop what they’re doing and wave.

Praetor Nico makes a face—and reluctantly waves back. Jason can’t help his own amusement.

“Don’t be shy,” he says. “They must really like you.”

Red flourishes in Praetor Nico’s cheeks, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s not that. They have their duties. Reyna’s not going to be happy if they literally _drop everything_ just to say hi.”

The corner of Jason’s lips tug into a smile. “She’s always been a good leader.”

Praetor Nico studies Jason. There’s a weight of admiration there for Reyna that Jason knows so well with his own Nico—something that swelled after Gaea’s war—but there’s more, too. This Nico nods in agreement. “Reyna and Thalia shaped Camp Jupiter for the better. They’ve made a good team.”

“I’ll say.” Jason recognizes some faces. He notices the warm smiles and mischievous grins flashed between different cohorts as they run drills. Dakota waves from the Fifth Cohort, ever the easy presence in a militant army. “I would’ve loved to grow up in a camp like this one.”

A Roman Army, where there’s no in-fighting. Where gaining a friend wasn’t a power move on the part of a different cohort, and where Jason could actually _blend_ in with a team, instead of people relying on him like a leader.

The Argo II had been filled with so many talented people that the role of leadership almost felt unnecessary—but that was only one summer in Jason’s sixteen years. No matter how free Jason thought he felt after getting swapped by Juno, his habits didn’t break. That need to protect others. The sensibility that came with laying his life on the line for the good of the pack.

It’s…only now that Jason’s understanding that issue may be a _him_ thing. And that it may be an issue at all.

Praetor Nico is staring at him now, curious. It takes a moment for Jason to realize his own words.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Don’t apologize.” Praetor Nico shakes his head. “It’s not too late for that, you know.”

The corners of Jason’s lips etch into a tired smile.

He couldn’t leave New Rome fast enough, he’d said.

This New Rome—filled with his big sister and Nico—feels too good to be true. Jason has never been able to breathe as freely as he can here. His world was limited when Beryl dropped him off at the Wolf House—those confines are absent here.

The corner of Praetor Nico’s own lips lift, and he smiles back. 

Jason’s heart aches just looking at it.

They make it to the _via principalis_. As they round the corner to Thalia’s apartment—

“Nico! Hi!” —a girl meets them in front of a gate. At first, she looks ready to throw her arms around Nico—but takes a tentative step back and chews her lip. Jason has to do a double check as he sees her.

Praetor Nico and she share the same eyes. Their skin glows the same olive tone, aside from a field of freckles that flourish over her cheekbones, while her long hair flows freely down her back. Jason feels like he’s seen that face before—but he’s not sure where. There’s a timelessness in the way she dresses, like she’s ready for any season. She certainly doesn’t look like she belongs to Camp Jupiter.

“Hey,” Praetor Nico greets.

She lights up, fully, eyes twinkling like stars before throwing her arms around him. Nico blushes pink, his eyes tentatively moving to meet Jason’s.

“Jason,” Nico starts, “You know Bianca, right?” 

Jason chokes on his own disbelief. “Wait, seriously—?”

“Jason?” Bianca di Angelo’s own tone twists with mild disbelief, and she pulls away, amused. She looks up towards Jason again—with a face that Jason’s only seen down in the caverns of Split, Croatia when he received a full blast of Nico’s emotions.

This Bianca is lighter and less tense. She holds an ease to the way she moves—something different compared to the daughter of Hades who swore herself to the Huntresses before she ever knew her lineage.

She also snatches Jason by the face—a little more harshly than Praetor Nico did the first time.

Then she stares at him, and Jason sees his own confused face in her irises while she moves his face around.

“This isn’t Jace,” she says. Her voice is effervescent and sweet—and reminiscent to Juno, _Mammina of the Gods_ , somehow.

Gods—what Nico would give just to see his sister again. Jason suddenly feels strange being here instead.

Praetor Nico stares with an air of exasperation. It’s laced with an affection one could only have with a sibling—and then he nods in agreement. “Not Jace. Jason, though.”

Bianca eyes him suspiciously—protectively, even, of the other Jason. When she relinquishes her grip on his face, Jason rubs his own jawline.

“Nico thought Venus charmed Jace,” Jason offers, “to look like me.”

Red flourishes in Nico’s cheeks, irate. “I’d say that’s a little more realistic than my boyfriend from a different universe cropping up from the dead.”

“Not your boyfriend,” Jason corrects, and Praetor Nico nods in irate agreement. Not at Jason himself—but apparently some other prior meeting with the Goddess of Love and Beauty.

“So where’s Jace?” Bianca asks, her voice filled with a protective surge that Jason doesn’t expect. Definitely not from her. She stares at Jason—nothing like the cautious looks that Jason’s been receiving from the rest of their bunch. She looks more like Praetor Nico, when he asked, _where’s **mine**_ —but as far as he understands, the attachment is different. Something that reminds him of Beth.

For the first time, Nico’s expression twists. His eyebrows knit together, expression faltering, and he fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve. Under his sister’s gaze, he looks more uncomfortable—and more earnest about it.

“Not sure,” Praetor Nico admits. “Jace went off to the Underworld a couple of days ago. Thalia found Jason near Pluto’s crypt.”

“A few days ago?!” Her eyes widen at the news—and she disregards Jason completely. She throws her hands in the air. “And I’m just _now_ hearing about this?”

She’s in his face and gesturing wildly, but Praetor Nico doesn’t grimace. Instead, he shrugs a shoulder in her wake. “You and Piper went on vacation.”

Bianca looks furious. “So what now? Where’s my best friend? _Your_ boyfriend? You can’t seriously expect me to think you’re _okay_ right now.”

“I, uh, think I can shed some light on this.” Jason wedges himself between the di Angelo siblings. She glares at him huffily while Nico rolls his eyes. Jason clears his throat, standing a little taller while Bianca—daughter of…Jupiter? Zeus?—taps her foot impatiently. “I’m not staying.”

That catches Praetor Nico’s attention. He cocks his head, eyes wide, and Jason’s chest aches.

“What do you mean you’re not staying?”

Much like the first day, Jason turns around and is met with the sight of his big sister. _This_ big sister. Roman Thalia stares at him at the foot of the apartment complex, her hand curled around Reyna’s, and her eyebrows furrowed. To the right of her are Beth and Roman Percy—all waiting for him.

It makes the decision twenty times harder.

“Because I’m not,” Jason reiterates, before he has the chance to regret the words.

He doesn’t know what to expect. On the first day, they all stared at him like he was nuts. On the second—they pitied him. Now they stare, confused—and Roman Thalia looks at a loss.

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because I’m not Jace.” Jason turns his head back Bianca’s eye. She stares back at him, equally confused, but he continues. “Look, this place…has been more like Elysium for me than I could ever imagine. I grew up _wishing_ I had a life like this.”

A big sister to guide him. Childhood friends who treated him like an equal instead of a prince-in-waiting. Someone who loved him for just…being _him._ Being enough. But—

“But this isn’t my life,” Jason continues. “And I know a thing or two about getting swapped. I don’t think—I don’t _know_ if Jace can get back here on his own.”

Percy and he were swapped. To storm or fire. Roman, or Greek. Piper, or him. Learning he could go back and forth between both camps and relish both realms of his life had been… _gratifying,_ but he couldn’t stay in Camp Halfblood long. At the end of the day, Jason sacrificed his life so no one else would have to—so Piper could live—and at the end of the day, he was still buried Roman. 

“Well, yeah, but. Dude,” Roman Percy says. He makes a face and gestures into the air—but his eyes fall first to Praetor Nico.

Who stares at Jason with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

Roman Thalia closes the distance between them. She curls her hand over Jason’s wrist, much like the first day, and stares at him with worry. There’s disappointment and anger. Remorse.

“You don’t need to do this,” she says.

Every look she gives him makes it even more difficult. Jason sucks in a breath and stares back at her. “If…I stay, and Jace never makes it back, will you be happy?”

“We’ll find another way,” she insists. She touches him in the face, her hands calloused from years of fighting. Jason catches sight of the ten stripes on her arm—what he once thought bound them together in a childhood he dreamed of—and knows now, that it separates them. “You can both be here.”

They still grew up without each other. Except—this one chose to stay. This one chose never to be with the Huntresses and chose… _him._

Not him, though.

“I’m supposed to be dead,” Jason protests. The words aren’t easy to hear. They’re even worse now, given the state of his arm—but they have to be said. “Your brother isn’t. And—if I’m alive right now—”

Both Praetor Nico and Roman Thalia stare at him, and Jason is reminded of the other son of Jupiter’s insistence on their first day.

“—he deserves to be in the world that he chose for himself,” Jason finishes. There’s an ease to the way he smiles, and he rubs his chest. “And I’ll be in Elysium, waiting for _my_ Thalia…and _my_ friends, and… _my_ Nico.”

Praetor Nico raises his gaze, his lips contorted into a frown. He shoves his hands in his pockets, kicking his foot against the asphalt, looking _so much_ like Jason’s Nico, but not quite right. Not the one that Jason had fallen in love with.

Not the sister that he reunited with in a cave near Pike’s Peak, letting out a breath of relief for the first time in fifteen years. Not the friends that helped him feel more like himself. This world has everything Jason yearned for growing up, but at the end of the day, it’s not his life.

Praetor Nico’s blue eyes dim. “I hate this for you.”

“I chose this. For me.” Jason’s smile tightens. “Nico, I’m okay.”

Roman Thalia’s hand curls into a fist, her expression tight. Slowly, she raises it—and molds it around the curvature of Jason’s face. He wonders how often she did that when he was little.

“You noble asshole,” she whispers. Her eyes shimmer with tears, and the corners of her lips etch into a tight, wary smile. “I could punch you right now.”

Jason laughs—and it’s heavy. But slowly, he curls his own hand around hers. “Will you guide me back?”

Roman Thalia stares at him, surprised.

“I never got to say goodbye to you before I died.” Jason pauses and turns to Beth, who was the first to ask his thoughts about arriving here, and Roman Percy—who shaped the Fifth Cohort in a way Jason always dreamed—then Reyna, who he’d left to fend for herself within the Legion. She’s happier here—especially with his sister. Then—he turns to Praetor Nico, whose demeanor is still laced with frustration. “All of you. If…you don’t mind humoring a dead man’s last request.”

Beth’s eyes soften. She leans into Roman Percy, who wraps a comforting arm around her waist.

“Sure, man,” he says, though his expression is dim.

Reyna walks up the length of the sidewalk and touches her girlfriend’s arm. They share a look—sweet and loving, and Jason takes a moment to think about how this Reyna seems happier, too.

Roman Thalia throws her arms around Jason, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you, baby brother,” she whispers. “Always.”

Jason’s heart aches. He hugs her back, his grip tight. “Me too, Thalia.”

*

They wait until Jace calms down. Until Jace can breathe steadily again, and the shadows stop flickering around them. The forest is still dead at the height of winter, the air stale—but it’s calm. With the renewed light around them, Jace looks frailer in Nico’s arms. More ragged. Percy, Reyna, and Thalia are trying their best not to stare—and Nico can tell that it’s killing Thalia.

Jace’s hands still shake, even as his breaths flow in a quiet pattern. Nico reaches over and firmly curls a hand over the other son of Hades’s. Still, Jace’s fingers are unsteady.

“Now what?” Percy asks. The forest is so quiet that his voice carries.

Slowly, Jace’s gaze lifts to meet the son of Poseidon, and the exhaustion is hard to miss.

“We should let everyone know we found Jason,” Reyna suggests.

“I think everyone already has an idea,” Thalia points out. She gestures to the sky—to the warmth of the morning sun that was quickly forgotten under Jace’s panic. “We should take Jace home. His home.”

Nico doesn’t miss the way Jace’s gaze darts to the daughter of Zeus. Jace’s lips press into a firm line, his posture dull. He rubs his forehead and slowly squeezes his eyes shut.

“What sounds best, Jason?” Nico asks quietly.

Slowly, those blond eyelashes flutter, and Jace’s tired eyes raise back to him. Jace’s nose twitches, his lips contorting into a tiny grimace. Slowly, he wobbles to his feet.

“I.” His voice is hoarse. Tired, and strained. “I don’t want to worry the others.”

Nico squeezes Jace’s hand. He narrows his gaze, lips pressed into a firm line. “What do you _want_ to do?”

A breath falls from Jace’s mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut once more, then raises his gaze, reluctant.

“Jason,” Nico presses. Gently—but presses all the same.

“I want to go home,” Jace says finally. His gaze darts to the ground, and he shudders. “My home.”

“Then we’re taking you home,” Nico declares. He turns his attention back to the other demigods, his grip tight around Jace’s hand. “Anyone have a problem with that?”

No one protests. Thalia looks like she wants to say more, her eyes rimmed red—but Jace shrinks somehow, under her gaze. 

Reyna pulls at the daughter of Zeus’s shoulder, her expression more easily identifiable beneath the morning sun. There’s a sympathy there, as Thalia raises her gaze to meet her righthand’s, and then Percy speaks.

“We’ll go ahead and let everyone know,” he says—then he delivers a look to Nico. “Take your time.”

The three of them walk off into the distance. Birds chirp in the background as though no time has passed. Nico and Jace remain where they are, hands intertwined. The touch is numb and almost unfeeling—like snowflakes against ice—but Nico doesn’t want to let go. Not because he can’t let go of Jason. Because he needs to make sure Jace is okay, after all of the times Jason has done the same.

“This place is like Tartarus for you,” Nico surmises softly. “Isn’t it?”

Jace’s lips part into a humorless, tired smile. He rubs the exhaustion and dry tears from the corners of his eyes—pauses, poignantly—then shakes his head. “That’s a mean thing to say about the place that raised me.”

Nico stares at him. “The place that made you the Hero of the Great Prophecy first, and everything else last. Where you ended up, instead of with your sister.”

Jace’s demeanor falls, his gaze at the ground.

“Where you fell in love with a boy that betrayed you,” Nico continues, and his own voice feels strained. His heart trembles. “And you’ve just spent the last few days hearing how your boyfriend almost died trying to find you in the other Tartarus.”

_Those_ words are brittle as they leave Nico’s throat. His eyes are warm with the reality of them, eyebrows furrowed—but he pushes through.

Jace finally raises his gaze. The glow of his irises has dimmed, replaced with exhaustion instead.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he says softly. And then he glares past Nico—at… _something._ Maybe a ghost of himself. “Not…when…”

“When I already wasn’t taking his death well?” Nico guesses. The corner of his lip etches into a tired smile—but he can’t hold it long. It dims with a quiet sadness, and he stares at the way Jace’s hands tremble, no matter the steadiness of his tone.

Jace lets go of a breath. “What good would it do to tell you I’m in love with you too if I’m _leaving_ , Nico?”

So much. They’re too good to be true, hearing _I’m in love with you_ from Jason Grace—and the Fates knew the only way to balance that out was to rip Jason away from Nico’s life, too. His heart swells with a familiar sense of remorse and anguish that he succumbed to the day Jason died—something that never quite left him.

But Nico pushes it away. He’s spent too much time dwelling in that feeling already.

“You were supposed to leave two days ago,” he points out. “You stayed for me. Twice.”

His eyebrows furrow together, and he swallows hard.

“You stayed in the Big House. You didn’t even feel welcomed in your own cabin.” Nico’s vision blurs. He clenches his jaw, tight. “You even changed your name because I…”

Couldn’t say it aloud. The first time someone saw them together, Nico couldn’t get the name to come out of his mouth. He couldn’t hide the disappointment that came with finding a different Jason—the _wrong_ Jason, and Jace had picked up on it.

Nico tried hard not to let the grief get to him. He couldn’t even last an hour. Not with Jace in front of him.

Jace shifts uncomfortably between his feet.

“Jason,” Nico whispers—though he’s not sure what to say.

“The last part’s not true,” Jace mumbles. “My friends call me Jace.”

“I haven’t been much of a friend, have I?” Nico smiles bitterly. “None of us have. I. We all talked about how we couldn’t believe he’d hide anything from us, but—we did the same thing to you that we did to him.”

Jace presses a hand to his forehead, evidently searching for the right words. He seemed to have them for Annabeth and Percy, and Leo and Piper—and even Nico. Jace tried to help Nico grieve and move on after Jason’s death while Nico was still trying to understand what Jason _meant_ to him.

But he doesn’t have a response now. He’s tired, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks. Jason Grace, son of Hades, doesn’t have the perfect words to help a person in mourning here. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mr. D said you had a habit of compartmentalizing,” Nico continues. “You shouldn’t have to do that. You’re allowed to _feel_ , Jace.”

Jace looks uncomfortable. He shakes his head slowly—but Nico goes on.

“What happened in this world wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t—you don’t need to be miserable for our sake.” Nico’s hands coil into fists at his side. “Your emotions are important. You—”

“Yeah,” Jace breathes, and he ceases. “I know. I’ve. I’ve had this talk before. It just wasn’t—I thought I could handle it.”

It wasn’t supposed to get bad again, Nico can almost hear in his voice. It must be a _Hades_ thing.

“Let’s get you home,” Nico murmurs softly. He reaches out and gives Jace’s hand a soft squeeze—and notices as the other son of Hades’s gaze follows the gesture.

Jace’s eyebrows furrow together, still unconvinced. “When…you grabbed my hand, I saw your memories too. About…Bianca, and Cupid—”

“We’re talking about you right now,” Nico interjects. Surprisingly, he’s able to breathe more easily after a conversation with Percy. “And I had a good friend help me through Cupid.”

Jace’s gaze falls down to him, weary. His lips press together. “Me too.”

They make the slow trek back to Camp Halfblood. Nico matches Jace’s pace, while the other demigod is weary and silent. Jace’s gaze is distant, past the epicenter of Camp Halfblood—and for the first time, Nico wonders what Jace is thinking.

The old Argo II crew hangs out at the porch of the Big House. Percy, Thalia, and Reyna look up at the sight of them. Piper and Leo stand to their feet—but they’re quickly ushered back down by Percy. Jace’s gaze seems to fall back to the ground, his breathing tense.

“We don’t have to go over there,” Nico says quietly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

A sigh of relief spills from Jace’s throat.

Off in the distance, Thalia looks ready to come back over. Percy touches her arm—and again, he raises his gaze to meet Nico’s, for approval.

Nico bites the inside of his mouth. “Percy, Thalia, and Reyna want to come back over. Is that okay?”

Jace looks reluctant—and Nico slowly steps in front of him.

“It doesn’t have to be okay,” Nico whispers slowly.

“I’m okay,” Jace reassures.

Slowly, the trio makes its way over. Nico catches Leo’s eye briefly—to the confusion and disappointment over the son of Hephaestus’s face—then he shakes his head. Piper looks ready to lunge—but Leo grabs her hand, and Jason’s friends stay put at the porch. Nico’s heart aches—but it’s not Jace’s problem.

As they close in, Thalia steps forward in front of Reyna and Percy. Nico’s grip is tight over Jace’s palm—but slowly, Jace pulls forward so the Grace siblings face each other.

Thalia’s demeanor twists. Jace’s hands shake at his side, his gaze not quite raising above the ground.

“I, uh,” he mumbles. “I’ve been told I have a tendency to bottle things up. I’m sorry I pushed.”

She reaches out with a hand—and Jace shrinks back at Nico’s side. A flicker of disappointment flashes in her eyes—but she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t raise her voice or curl a fist in anger like before.

“Sometimes that sounds better than dwelling,” Thalia says softly. “To bottle things up and just…keep moving forward.”

Jace’s lips press into a tired line. He tentatively raises his gaze to meet hers—and slowly, they stare at each other. Again, Thalia reaches out. Jace doesn’t shirk away, but they don’t quite make contact with each other either.

“There’s no excuse for me being a shitty sister,” Thalia murmurs back. Her gaze raises to meet Nico’s briefly, then returns her gaze to Jace. It’s…awkward, and stiff—but it’s more than before. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Jace lets out another quiet breath.

“Let me go with you,” she continues. “Let me guide you home.”

Jace raises his gaze to Nico—and this time, Nico meets it. There’s a question there, left in the dark for only Nico to see. It’s only now that Nico is realizing just how much faith Jace has in his decisions—even now.

_I’ve trusted you on a lot less_ , he’d said.

Nico squeezes Jace’s hand again, tethering him there. Tethering the both of them.

“Up to you,” he says. “Whatever you think is—”

Nico pauses.

“Whatever you _want_ to do, Jace,” Nico says finally. That in itself seems to be the right answer.

Jace’s chest heaves, and he nods slowly. Thalia sighs in relief.

They find Apollo sitting on the porch of Cabin Six, strumming his ukulele to a Shawn Mendes song and singing, while his children either look on with exasperation or warmth. Will catches sight of them first—and his gaze falls to the intertwined hands between Jace and Nico. He doesn’t look surprised.

Nico considers pulling away, but—can’t. Jace slowly turns to stare at him with concern, but Nico can’t look past the exhaustion in Jace’s eyes. He shakes his head.

“Hey, look!” Apollo flashes a blinding grin whiter than the snow. “I brought the sun back with me!”

They all stare at each other tiredly while the Sun God continues his rambling.

“Not sure what caused it, but I noticed Long Island was as dim as a cave. You guys must’ve missed me.” Apollo puffs his chest out and starts strumming _Love Yourself_ on his guitar. “All you had to do was call! I’m feeling the Biebs these days—”

“My fault,” Jace mutters. He raises a hand—and has the gall to look nervous. “Sorry, Lord Apollo.”

“Not your fault,” Thalia dismisses immediately, and her demeanor shrivels. “My fault.”

“Our fault,” Nico corrects—and he look to Percy, then Reyna. The rest of their crew is still looking off from a distance. “All of ours.”

“Why? What happened?” Apollo’s lips contort into a frown, looking headache-inducingly human. He plants both hands on Jace’s shoulders—and leans far too close for comfort. “You can talk to me about this, Jason! As a brother, as a lover—or whatever you need! I am here for you, as you’ve been for me—”

“He has a boyfriend, Apollo,” Nico interjects tiredly.

The Sun God pauses. He slowly turns his gaze to their intertwined hands.

“And a sister,” Thalia says. “Both of whom we should really be getting Jace back to.”

Apollo looks between the three of them—as though for the first time taking off his Jason lenses. He makes a frown. “Well, okay—so long as we make it clear that he has a brother, too. Me.”

“As if anyone could forget you, my lord,” Jace mutters—though amiably.

Apollo’s eyes well with tears again. “My brother.”

“My breakfast,” Percy grumbles. Reyna swats him.

Jace exhales softly. His voice is raspy after his meltdown from earlier. He stares onwards, expression tired and dull—and Nico gives his hand a firm squeeze. A reminder that they’re there. Slowly, Jace’s gaze turns to meet Nico’s, the lines under his eyes growing by the second, and then he nods.

“You…said there was no war in my future, Lord Apollo,” Jace says. “But what about gods, like yourself, who’ve been helped by this world’s Jason? Is there… _anyone_ that might’ve had anything to do with my appearance?”

Apollo strums his ukulele and strokes his chin.

“Well—I must admit, there was a time I was too into myself to notice what demigods other than my children were doing,” he says. “I’m way more thoughtful now.”

“You shadowtraveled out of the Big House on your own,” Reyna points out.

Jace casts a glance back down to his feet. “I couldn’t make it further than the edge of camp.”

The grip on Nico’s hand tightens—and as he looks up to meet Jace’s gaze, he notices just how _dismal_ the other son of Hades looks. Nico’s chest aches. Jace was _trying_ to get as far away as he could—to keep the eclipse from happening.

“I don’t know why I can’t leave,” Jace continues, and the frustration just seeps into his voice. His breath is shallow.

Nico gives Jace another firm squeeze on the hand—and meets Jace’s gaze.

“I’ve,” Jace starts softly, his voice filled with disquiet, “never felt so disconnected from Dad before.”

_My life’s not like that anymore_ , he’d said the night before. When Nico worried about Jason Grace, son of Hades who grew up alone in camp, with expectations thrust upon him. When he was left with the satyrs, tossed around by Chiron and Mr. D, and thrown into a war with the mindset that he didn’t have an out.

“Well, there is one goddess that was pretty upset by your death,” Apollo says. He strums his ukulele again. “Frankly, I was surprised she could feel anything at all. Maybe she has something to do with it.”

“Who?” Nico asks.

“His patron, of course,” the Sun God continues. His blue eyes glint, looking overbearingly bright—but still sympathetic in the wake of Jason. “Our stepmother.”

*

“Dad?” Roman Thalia asks, when Jason proposes their next suspect. 

“I woke up next to his crypt,” Jason explains. “I…didn’t think too much about it until you came up that hill. I figured he was a greeter at Disneyland, like Mickey Mouse, except for dead people. If I started this quest near the crypt, it makes sense for me to try and end it there, too.” 

Jason hesitates. Not long, though.

“If he’ll even answer my call,” he adds eventually. He learned early on not to hold out hope when he wanted to contact his father. 

They look at him strangely from across the living room couch, in a mixture of contained laughter and concern.

“Jason,” Beth muses, “you sound like you’ve been hanging out too long with Kelp Brain over here.”

“I know,” Roman Percy remarks. He grins. “I like him.” `

“I hate Disneyland,” Praetor Nico grumbles—though he doesn’t elaborate. He and Bianca share a look. Praetor Nico has been deep in thought, his hand curled tightly around the bracelet on his wrist. He still doesn’t seem happy about Jason’s decision—but he doesn’t push. For all that he’s urged Jason to think of himself and his own self-worth, it’s clear that Praetor Nico misses his boyfriend. 

“It’s a fair assessment, though,” Reyna remarks. “What do you think, Thal?” 

Roman Thalia’s hand hasn’t left Jason’s, thumb still pressed at the pulse at his wrist. She flashes a thoughtful look.

“It’s either your dad,” Jason says, “or mine.” 

She peers back up to him, a glimmer in her eyes that he can’t quite place. Roman Thalia gives his hand a firm squeeze—maybe for herself more than him, and the corner of her lip curls into a tired smile. “It’s worth a shot, baby brother.” 

They make the trek to Temple Hill in steady strides. Jason catches Bianca and Beth talking quietly to one another over... _something_ but has no guess as to what. Reyna and Roman Percy are back at Praetor Nico’s side. Roman Thalia holds Jason’s hand, refusing to let go before it’s time. 

The Jupiter Optimus Maximus catches Jason’s attention. He comes to a halt with his father’s temple far off in the distance. Even from afar, Jason can imagine the cold look in Jupiter’s eyes. The regal, stoic demeanor, without any acknowledgement for those he considered beneath him. 

His own son included.

A hand curls over Jason’s shoulder—and he raises his gaze to meet Praetor Nico’s. Praetor Nico tilts his head sympathetically. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “if you have mixed feelings about Dad.” 

“Yeah,” Roman Percy remarks. “You’re dead now. What’s he gonna do—kill you?” 

Reyna swats him—but Jason can’t help the strained smile as it curls against his lips. 

“I know,” Jason says. “I just…”

His stomach coils into knots.

“He wasn’t the best dad to me. He wasn’t ever a dad.” Jason raises his gaze back to their group, his expression twisting tentatively. He rubs the tattoo on his arm, tracing the outline of his father’s eagle. “I just wish I could’ve made him proud.”

Praetor Nico’s gaze storms with something. Bianca and he share another look. 

“If Dad can’t see how much you’re worth, then that speaks more about him than you, Jason,” Bianca says. She’s calmer around him now. Softer.

“Trust me, he doesn’t have much to offer aside from his _optimus maximus_ ego. And no one wants that.” Praetor Nico’s expression sours with an old irritation. Bianca makes a face—somewhere between disapproval and amusement on behalf of her brother. “You’re perfect the way you are, Jason. Just as yourself.”

Red flourishes Jason’s cheeks. He smiles softly. “Thanks, guys.” 

When they make it to Pluto’s crypt, Jason’s taken aback by how nervous he feels. His heart hammers in his chest. Juno had already dismissed him in one breath, despite the fifteen years he worked under her name. Jupiter met his eye once and never again after that. 

Jason’s not really sure if he’s ready for it again. To be called _no son_ of anyone else’s.

“You’re still my brother,” Roman Thalia whispers beside him. She gives his hand a soft squeeze. “We still share a name, Jason.” 

Her reassurance calms him down. Jason smiles at her weakly. “We do.”

They step forward together. His poppies from the other day sit at Pluto’s feet. Pluto’s statue is as soft and somber as the one back in Jason’s own New Rome, with the recognition that those who visited his tomb come to mourn the loss of loved ones. Jason plucks flowers once again and ponders on the right words to say. He hesitates, then turns to meet the faces of his friends. They wait for him patiently. 

Then, Jason turns back and places the flowers on the altar.

“King Pluto,” he says finally. “Would you, um. Would you have time for an audience?” 

The bones and jewels around the crypt’s walls rattle. Darkness spills from the inside of the small shrine, shadows flooding the grassy hilltop. Blades of grass wither and wilt, and the silhouette of night bleeds into the sky, turning the sunset into night. Jason’s heart rams against his chest. Goosebumps explode across his arms, and the air escapes his lungs against his will. 

Then, the shadows retreat to the edge of the crypt. Moonlight replaces the setting sun, stars glittering the sky above, and Jason can breathe again.

The God of the Dead appears in front of the shrine, engulfed in his many wisps of shadows. 

An assortment of rings decorates King Pluto’s fingers—precious and accursed gemstones—while chains of platinum and white gold dangle over his collarbone. The spirits in his blazer float around the fabric with a gold sheen against black velvet, spilling into a clean ornate design, as though he was a Tim Burton celebrity dressed in baroque couture for a night at the Met Gala. His beard is close-trimmed, pitch-black hair pulled into a silky pompadour.

Jason stares. If this is what Pluto looked like when he romanced Beryl, it’s no wonder she bore him two children. 

“My love,” King Pluto says, his voice soft and enticing like a musician guiding an audience. He nods his head at Roman Thalia, then turns to Jason. His eyes light up. “Oh, Jason, my boy.” 

The suit disappears. King Pluto’s blazer of souls turns into a frilly apron, his silk shirt sleeves pulled past his elbows. His ebony hair falls freely around his face, skin still glowing with the same quality of both his daughter and his son. Gone are most of the lavish rings of a high-class royal or celebrity, save for two simple wedding bands on his left ring finger. There’s an earthy quality to the way he stares forward now—more grounded, with a quiet happiness.   
  


He couldn’t look any further from King Pluto than he did now, Jason thinks.

Which—probably describes Thalia and the other Jason perfectly.

“Alecto mentioned you were coming down to make cookies.” King Hades holds up his helm of darkness and bident, which slowly turn into a large mixing bowl and whisk. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

Jason turns to face Roman Thalia for guidance—but she doesn’t blink. She smiles at her father fondly—with a glimmer in her eye that Jason has only seen when Jace is mentioned in conversation.

He clears his throat. “King Hades, I’m…uh. I’m not your son.”

King Hades stares at him, with a pause as long as Juno’s. Jason tries his best not to shirk under his gaze.

“You’re Jason, are you not?” King Hades asks finally. “Jason Grace?”

“Well—yes,” Jason says, then the words leave him. He hiccups in his own conversation, taken aback by the inquiry.

“So what’s the problem?” King Hades asks.

Jason stares back at the King of the Dead. He turns to Roman Thalia once again—then to meet Praetor Nico’s eye. Praetor Nico shrugs.

“My name is Jason Grace, King Hades.” Jason peels his hand away from Thalia’s—though very reluctantly. He shows off the twelve bars on his arm, and the eagle. “Son of Jupiter.”

King Hades’s eyes fall down to the twelve tick marks, and the emblem that tied Jason to the Senate. His whisk-bident disappears, and he strokes his chin. “Ah. You’re a child of Rome, my boy.”

_My boy._ He stares up towards the ten-foot-tall god and relinquishes a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The anxiety diminishes from the pit of Jason’s stomach. “I’m…not sure what happened, sir, but I’m supposed to be dead. I died months ago, back in February. It’s December now. I guess I ended up here instead of the Underworld. Um…the wrong here. A different here.”

King Hades scans him with a stoic demeanor, with nary a sound other than the ghouls whispering in his frilly baking apron. Jason’s cheeks flourish with a humble red.

“My son isn’t supposed to be dead,” King Hades says finally, and he strokes his chin.

“Yeah, but—” Jason blinks, his gaze narrowed. “I’m not your son—”

King Hades’s eyebrow arches in the air, and Jason’s heart stutters.

“I’m—uh—different version of your son,” Jason sputters, and he tugs at his clothes. Jace’s clothes. Maybe that was why King Hades mistook him for the other Jason at first glance.

“Jason Grace is my son,” King Hades says, as though offering a helpful reminder. There’s a warmth to his voice that Jason doesn’t quite expect, lace with pride. “And his time has not come yet, my dear boy.”

There’s a sigh of relief—both beside Jason from Roman Thalia, and from behind him.

Jason stares at the King of the Dead, wondering if he heard correctly. Slowly, he opens his mouth to speak. “I understand, sir, but I shouldn’t even have a body right now. That one got—”

Mutilated. Mauled by arrows, pierced by spears.

Jason struggles to finish his explanation. He cradles his arm without realizing it.

“Ah,” King Hades notes—and he stares into Jason’s eyes as though looking into his soul. It’s…different from what Jason has come to expect from his own father’s statue. Then, King Hades’s gaze dims, his lips pressing into a somber line. “It seems you were dealt a heavy hand, my boy.”

There’s compassion in his voice. A velvety quality that Jason never would have expected from a god—from the King of the Dead, no less. Juno’s reproach of him was startling—but King Hades’s empathy shakes Jason enough that he’s not sure what to say. Hades doesn’t touch Jason the way Juno did. Not to inspect his brother’s eyes or exhale an irate sigh.

For some reason, it makes Jason’s heart wane even more.

“It was either going to be me or a friend of mine, sir,” Jason says finally. He’s spoken that explanation a thousand times now—but hearing sympathy from the Lord of the Dead makes him feel smaller. “I wasn’t going to let it be her.”

Hearing it from the other Jason’s _father_ makes him feel no bigger than that two-year-old boy lost in the woods.

King Hades’s demeanor softens a degree—and in some strange way, it makes Jason miss his own Nico more.

“Always my most selfless son,” he says. “I’ve always worried that quality would undo you.”

Jason stares. He’s not sure how he feels about _that_ expectation of him, coming from the King of the Dead. Even more—from his father.

_Jace’s_ father, he corrects in his head.

“I’m,” he says, when he finds his voice, “not your son, sir.”

Again, King Hades arches his eyebrow. And again, he repeats—“Are you Jason Grace?”

“Well, uh, yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

There’s a round of laughter behind him—no doubt started by Roman Percy. Jason stares at the pointblank demeanor presented to him by the King of the Underworld.

“Dad,” Roman Thalia intervenes. Her voice is soft and gentle as she catches King Hades’s attention. The change is quick—Hades’s apron disappears and he turns into Hot Pluto again, looking as stylish as his daughter. “It’s been days now. If he never made it down to the Underworld, aren’t you worried about where he could’ve ended up?”

Much like earlier with Praetor Nico, Roman Thalia’s voice is filled with worry that was stifled with Jason’s appearance. His chest tightens.

Still, Hot Pluto strokes his stubble. “As far as I know, he isn’t dead.”

A frustrated sound catches all of their attention. Praetor Nico. The beads around his wrist clatter, and his cheeks redden.

“My apologies,” he mumbles. “I’m just. Very worried about him.”

“Yes, and I quite like you for him.” Hot Pluto ripples into his Greek form—and again, the Mixing Bowl of Darkness remains firm beneath his arm. “I’ve no doubt that my dear son will do what is best for everyone.”

Again, that explanation rubs Jason the wrong way. It’s filled with pride and expectations for the other Jason—and feels so pointed at himself.

Praetor Nico’s demeanor dims. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Your son lives a good life here, King Hades,” Jason says instead—and it’s earnest as it comes out. A life with their big sister, with a boy that Jason cherishes so much—and a father that actually _wanted_ to be in his life. A father who claimed him in more than just lineage. “I’ve…done the best I can with the cards that were dealt to me. My world is safe, and Apollo is a god again. I think it’s time I take my place down below, so your son can continue enjoying his life. Here.”

King Hades stares at him with a deafening silence. It’s torturous.

Five minutes, once again, of knowing his father, all to be thrown away in a single speech.

But the temperature doesn’t drop around them. There isn’t a murderous glint to King Hades’s eyes. Jason’s words aren’t lost on prideful ears.

“You’ve done many good deeds to earn your spot in Elysium, Jason Grace,” he says finally. “But here, it’s not my son’s time. Simply taking you down to Elysium would not bring him back here.”

“But I—” The words stall in Jason’s throat, filled with confusion. His eyebrows furrow together. “I don’t understand this quest, sir. I’ve talked to my patron goddess here. We’ve tried to get another god to appear at the War Games, and you’re my father—”

Jason halts, while Hades arches an eyebrow. Red flourishes in his cheeks.

“You’re Jace’s dad,” Jason corrects lamely. “Don’t you…don’t _you_ care where he is right now, don’t you?”

A hand touches Jason’s shoulder. Roman Thalia.

“You’re shaking, baby brother,” she says quietly—and Jason’s heart is trembling in his chest. He feels… _anxious_ , and he doesn’t like it.

“Sorry,” he breathes, and despite the heat in his cheeks, Jason feels cold. “I’ve just—I’ve gone on so many quests for as long as I can remember. I don’t understand why I can’t figure this one out. Surely by now we’d have a lead.”

“All paths lead to my realm eventually, my boy,” King Hades says. “But not yet. Not for you.”

Jason stares at the King of the Dead in disbelief, the fretfulness bubbling in his chest again. Growing.

“So you can’t help us,” he blurts out.

*

Nico isn’t the biggest fan of Hera. After Bianca’s death, everything seemed to change. The sky felt dimmer. Most smiles around him disguised sneers, and Nico feared the touch of anyone, as everyone else was disturbed by the idea of even standing around him.

Despite the cool pictures and attack bonuses, Mythomagic didn’t prepare Nico for Hera treating him like a rat running across her perfect dinner table. Everyone’s anger towards Juno’s swap leaked over to him—and his true intentions of finding a home for his sister were shrouded by stories and mistrust that others associated with his father’s name.

The disdain for the Queen of the Gods is evidently shared by most—reflected in Percy’s look of disbelief and Thalia’s preference to drive her hunting knife through her own throat.

“You can’t be serious,” Thalia says finally, while Apollo stares at all of them with the weight of a dramatic pause.

“No, seriously, little sister,” Apollo says, and his voice drips with the same sickening warmth it did when he addressed Artemis. “Jason was her champion. I saw her up in Olympus dressed in a black gown, veil, and everything. The whole nine yards.”

“There has to be another god,” Percy insists.

“Who? Dad?” Apollo pulls his sunglasses away and offers a mortal look that says, _Dad is absolutely not an option._

“What do you think, Jace?” Nico asks. He turns to face the other son of Hades, who looks deep in thought. “How’s your relationship with the Queen?”

Jace’s gaze is gloomy. His eyelids fall half a degree, but he tries his best to stay awake. He gives Nico a look—one that Nico can’t quite decipher no matter how long he stares—and then shrugs. “It won’t matter here.”

His tone is tired and desolate. Still, Jace smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt and straightens his jacket.

Nico’s never had a reason to enter Cabin Two. He seldom entered Cabin One or Three, other than when he was ten and curious. Then, after Bianca died, Nico didn’t want anything to do with Camp Halfblood, or the boy he associated with it.

As they enter Hera’s Cabin, Nico’s reminded of the marble columns and blanch walls of Zeus’s Cabin. Everything so eerie and sterile that it made Jason tentatively ask if he could spend the night at Cabin Thirteen instead.

Hera’s statue glows at the edge of an unattended firepit. The warmth of the embers cancels out the cold and unassuming air, while she stares onward with a goatskin over her shoulders. Peacocks decorate the walls, and the slim columns are garlanded with pomegranates and lilies.

There’s a moment where Jace pauses at the edge of the fire. His eyes linger beneath Hera’s altar, gaze soft.

“You okay?” Nico asks.

Jace snaps out of his thoughts. He turns to meet Nico’s gaze, and then slowly nods. “Just lost in thought.”

Before anyone can say a word, he plucks lilies and pomegranates from the garland.

Nico feels eyes fall on him briefly—from Percy and Thalia, then Reyna.

“It’s so cold in here,” Apollo whines—and his voice reverberates off the bare walls of the temple. Everyone turns to him.

“Actually,” Jace says hoarsely, “some sunlight would be good.”

Apollo beams—which seems like a flashlight under the solemn darkness. With a snap of his finger, the curtains part around the small shrine. Sunlight paints warmth across the walls of Cabin Two, and the harsh look on Hera’s face seems softer. More motherly.

“You’re familiar with this,” Nico notes.

Jace pauses. He lifts his gaze, evidently reluctant to share. “I…try to keep good rapport with all of the gods. Especially her.”

“Why?” Percy asks, and his voice is filled with a familiar disdain.

“Because Jason knows better than to insult the Queen in her own cabin,” Thalia says pointedly—but her look of disinterest betrays the pride of her tone.

The corner of Jace’s lips lift faintly. Slowly, he pulls something out of his back pocket: a woman’s ring.

“Jace.” Thalia’s voice rings through the cabin, her voice tight with surprise. “Is that what I think that is?”

“Mom’s engagement ring.” Jace places it on the altar.

The moment it hits the altar, the sunlight dims. The fire crackles brighter, and the temperature of the room grows cold enough for Nico to see his breath. The brazier _burns_ , but the cold is _overbearing_.

In place of the statue of the Queen of the Gods is Hera herself, dressed in a long, pristine white Grecian gown. Her plaited hair cascades down her shoulder, decorated by a golden diadem. Rich red paints her lips, not one stroke of makeup out of place on her perfect face.

But her demeanor scrunches as she stares at the ring between her fingers.

“What mortal,” she says, her voice low and embittered, “would be stupid enough to place the ring of _Beryl Grace_ on my altar?”

Nico’s chest tightens. He reaches out to touch Jace’s shoulder, as Percy readies Riptide behind him and Thalia reaches for her mace canister—but Jace unwittingly raises his own hand instead.

“Queen Hera,” Jace says instead. “My apologies. That’s as close to a commitment that I can give you.”

Queen Hera snaps to attention at the sound of his voice. Her expression is cold and resigned as it stares up at Jace—and to Nico’s surprise, the look is returned, as though Jace had given up with the formalities of meeting the people different from who he knows. The fire of her brazier burns, and the gold of the engagement ring glows with the heat of Hera’s rage.

“You come to my alter, you foolish boy,” Queen Hera laments, her voice low and cruel, “and mock the sanctity of my marriage by presenting the ring of that wench?”

Thalia uncaps her mace canister. Percy wields Riptide, and Nico reaches for Jace’s hand—but the other demigod doesn’t flinch.

“I present the ring of the person who gave you your champion,” Jace says instead, and one of Queen Hera’s eyebrows arches into the air. “Your son, Jason Grace.”

Queen Hera lowers the ring and stares at him. If it were any other person, Nico has no doubt she’d let them have _any_ word. But she looks upon this Jason Grace, son of Hades, and her eyes continue with an inquisitive quality.

“You’re no son of mine,” she declares.

“I’m no son of anyone’s here, ma’am.” Jace keeps his voice steady and diplomatic, but the exhaustion is impossible to hide. Much like their own Jason, he was trying his best not to invoke the goddess’s wrath. His gaze lowers slowly, and Nico is unable to see Jace’s face. “I’m sorry. For…mortals, a parent never wants to watch their child die. I’m sure gods have something similar.”

She eyes him suspiciously.

“My boyfriend, though,” Jace continues softly, and he raises his head. “His moms had a saying. _Family is with you in life and in death._ Are you familiar with it?” 

Queen Hera lowers the wedding ring and studies him.

“It seems I am in another lifetime,” she concludes, and her voice has less of an edge to it. She raises her gaze to Nico specifically—and he knows better than to flinch.

“Your majesty,” he greets, trying to keep the steadiness of his own tone.

She turns her gaze back to Jace, evidently finding little importance in anyone else. “ _Your_ symbol of commitment is with another.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mutters. For the first time, Jace’s cheeks flourish with a steady pink. The tips of his fingers skim his bare collarbone. “I. Wish to find a way back to him. And my family.” 

Hera’s scrutiny continues under the crackling of the flames. She studies Jace’s face carefully, her expression dwindling from its cautious ire.

“Queen Hera,” Apollo announces, his voice overshadowing Jace’s own, “if I may speak on behalf of my baby brother—”

“You may not.” Hera snaps her fingers, and the Sun God suddenly disappears.

Cabin Two fades away.

Nico’s vision blurs in the time it takes to blink, and his hand flies to lace with Jace’s. There are sounds behind him—of Percy yelping, of Thalia swearing, and Reyna’s surprise—and then their scenery changes.

They sit at the length of a marble table decorated with bronze seats. A feast lies before them. Lavish scents fill the air—of roasted chicken, savory steaks, succulent desserts, and so on. Nico sits across from a disgruntled Percy, who gives him a pointed look. Behind them, Nico can see floor-to-ceiling windows, with the New York City skyline blanked by a sheet of clouds from the 600th floor of Olympus.

“Child of my brother, King of the Dead,” Hera suddenly says—and she appears behind them, holding a ceramic white pitcher and pouring wine like a dutiful homemaker. “Do tell me more about how _death_ and _family_ are intertwined with the fate of my son.”

Jace is still absorbing the change in scenery around him, his gaze wary. His hair is parted neatly to the side, shirt tucked in his pants. Whatever Jace did to improve his appearance in the mere seconds before they set off for Cabin Two was amended by the Mother Goddess. He makes a face—and Nico thinks he might actually be able to decipher it.

Three days struggling to leave Camp Halfblood, and the Queen was able to sweep them away to Olympus with a snap of a finger. Nico would be annoyed, too. He reaches under the table and squeezes Jace’s hand.

“We’ll get you home,” Nico promise quietly under his breath.

Jace startles at his touch. He looks at Nico briefly—then his gaze rises back to Hera as she fills everyone’s chalice like the perfect host. Her eyes follow him around the room.

“Quite the style you carry, son of Hades,” Hera says. Her corporeal image flickers until the goatskin around her shoulders flows as a cape of peacock feathers, and the pitcher becomes a lotus staff. Juno pauses, her hand to her chest. “ _My_ son was well-kept. The model legionnaire. Never a hair out of place! Perfect clothes. He was just the most _thoughtful_ boy.”

Jace just stares at her, perplexed. He rubs his forehead thoughtfully.

“Your hair is fine,” Nico reassures. He withholds the urge to roll his eyes, while Percy and Thalia share exasperated looks.

“Sounds like you were very proud of him, your highness,” Jace notes. His gaze follows her trail around the dining table. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him?”

She halts at the center of the table, and her gaze narrows. There’s a warning to her gaze—but it diminishes quickly. “No. We Roman Gods and Goddesses…we so infrequently visit our children. They carry on acts under our names, and we await the chance to hear it from Olympus.”

“Good excuse,” Thalia grumbles—and Juno is quick to rear an angry gaze at her.

Jace clears his throat, and attention slowly returns to him. His gaze raises to Nico’s, eyes knitted together, and he shifts in his seat. He’s poised, like before.

“I,” Jace say slowly, “know that when I was handed off to Camp Halfblood when I was little, I felt really…lost. About who I was and what I was supposed to be. I don’t think I felt like myself more until I was able to speak to my godly parent. Hades.”

Juno clings onto every word. “If you’re here for an assembly with my husband, I’m afraid he doesn’t have time for you today.”

“I’m sure he has no time for me any day.” Jace’s eyebrow arches in the air in such a wry manner that Nico would’ve laughed in another circumstance. “I was talking about you, your highness. I…guess here, he’s the only demigod son you’ve ever had, isn’t he?”

He makes a face, as if trying to believe it himself.

Juno stares back at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That would be a fair assessment, son of Hades. His namesake was my favorite hero. Jason Grace was mine until death.” 

There’s a crackling beneath the table. Nico turns quickly to see Reyna quelling Thalia’s irritation beneath the table.

“You clearly loved him as your own,” Jace says. He makes a face. It’s brief—but Nico is quick to watch the other demigod try to wrap his head around that fact. “You’re…the Goddess of Family. What are the chances that you…?”

He trails off.

“That I what, boy?” Juno asks him.

“Hid him,” Jace says finally. “What are the chances you swapped us, so he could escape death?”

It all happens in an instant. Reyna, Thalia, Percy, and Nico all exchange looks. Nico isn’t sure why the thought didn’t cross his mind. Maybe he didn’t want it to—because he needed to be good. He _needed_ not to go down to the same path he did with Bianca. He was afraid to go down that path and be _wrong._

But it made sense. Why Nico could feel like he was submerged in a blizzard at Jason’s death, yet still struggle to find his soul—either on the living plane or in death. Nico couldn’t find Jason in Elysium, or the Fields of Asphodel, and even desperately searched Tartarus for it.

Jason’s soul wasn’t of this world anymore because he wasn’t _here._

Juno stares back at him, perplexed. “Why would I know anything about a swap?”

Percy makes a sound. Reyna looks exasperated.

“Are you kidding me?” Percy cries. “You took eight months of my life! You took Jason out of his home!”

“Percy,” Reyna warns—though it’s already too late.

Juno turns her gaze, burning holes in Percy’s skull. A thousand insults flicker in her glower, but Percy’s never been one to care.

“Rhea did it once, your majesty,” Nico says—and he hates that her nonplussed gaze lands on him. “She hid Zeus so when the time came, he could save you and the rest of the elder gods. She did it with a mother’s love.”

“Yes, and she never lets me forget it,” Juno grumbles. “The one flaw about marrying your brother, children: twice the amount of _nagging_ for not being good enough for her son, _and_ not being as good as the golden child in the family.”

They all stare at her, unsure of what to say. Percy looks ready to get up from his seat and punch out the Queen of the Heavens.

“When I swapped Percy Jackson with my champion, I was reuniting my families. The Children of Greece and the Children of Rome. Your boyfriend’s saying is sweet, Jason,” Juno says, “but once your other self died, he was out of my hands. If I were to swap you, then you’d be exactly where I wanted you to be. With your sister.”

All at once, the flowers in the centerpiece wilt. Everyone startles—and all eyes fly back to Jace.

“Sorry,” he breathes, and his voice is faint. He’s pale in the face. Beneath Nico’s palm, Jace’s hands tremble again. “I…guess this means…you…you weren’t…?”

Each word sounds weaker than the last. Juno simply stares at him—eyes filled with a nonchalant pity.

“I cannot help you,” she says.

*

“Quests don’t follow mortals into the afterlife, my boy.” Hades strokes his chin. “I worry, if you must travel to my domain to ask for my aid. At that point, any mortal who seeks me is as good as good as dead.”

“Sir, I am dead,” Jason says. He rubs his forehead, trying his best not to let his irritation show.

King Hades stares back down at him. “Are you Jason Grace?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then your time has not come yet, my—”

“King Pluto,” Praetor Nico interjects, his voice dripping with ire. “How should we go about getting Jace back if his absence isn’t tied to Jason’s death?”

Hot Pluto strokes his stubble again, his hair falling over his forehead in a mildly disheveled manner. “I wouldn’t go as far as to assume that the two aren’t linked. The Fates work in mysterious ways.”

Jason stares at Hot Pluto, his hands twitching at his side. Before his mind can ache with frustration again, Roman Thalia curls a hand over his left, and Praetor Nico on his right. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring your son back, sir. I just—it’s been three days, and I don’t know where to start. Thalia took one look at me and knew my soul was supposed to pass. Surely, as her father—you can tell me more.”

The King of the Dead stares down at Jason, his expression once again sympathetic. There’s another long pause, with nothing but the chatter of birds behind them.

“You put too much faith in me, dear boy,” King Pluto says. “Your path will eventually lead you down to my realm, but you must remember that I merely sign the paperwork for those who cross.”

He snaps his fingers.

Once again, the evening light darkens. Goosebumps erect across Jason’s forearms, and he swallows hard.

Letus, Roman God of Death appears.

The wings at his back expand, glittering in hues of blue, purple, and black. Beneath the feathers are a pair of honey gold eyes and long, plaited black hair. At first, Jason mistakes Letus for Cupid. He reaches for Praetor Nico the same time the other son of Jupiter reaches for him, and—

Praetor Nico makes a face, his cheeks flourishing red. “Sorry. I must be seeing things.”

“Same,” Jason says—and he’s not sure how to take the suspicious way Praetor Nico eyes him.

“My lord,” Letus greets, his voice enticing and smooth. In his arms is a pure black iPad. “I believe we aren’t set to meet until later, so you can sign all the paperwork for the new deaths.”

“Yes, the paperwork never ends,” King Pluto grumbles—and Roman Thalia evidently shares the sentiment as she also sighs. “Do you know the whereabouts of my son, Letus?”

Letus’s honey eyes flicker in confusion—and then he points a slim finger in Jason’s direction. “Is that not him?”

“Yes, that is Jason Grace,” King Pluto agrees—and his form trickles, until he’s Hades again. “The one with my ichor, Letus.”

Jason swallows hard.

Letus taps on his iPad gently. He skims through his list with a deafening silence. Then—“I believe I sent you his paperwork three days ago, my lord. You questioned the authenticity of it and refused to sign.”

Jason blinks. He turns to face Praetor Nico, then to Roman Thalia.

“My son was supposed to come down and make cookies with Alecto,” Hades admonishes. “Of course I rejected the paperwork.”

“This explains how you got a body back, baby brother,” Roman Thalia mutters with amusement.

“Does it?” Jason asks, tired and unsure. “I died, Lord Letus. I have the scars to prove—”

No, he doesn’t. Jason twitches, his hand gliding across his chest.

Letus raises his gaze and arches an eyebrow in Jason’s direction. “You’re supposed to be dead, son of Jupiter.”

Jason’s heart skips a beat.

“Is Jason Grace on your list, Letus?” King Pluto asks.

“Well, no, my lord—”

“Then he’s fine as he is,” the King of the Dead concludes.

“I’m _not_ ,” Jason protests—and he surprises himself with the ferocity of his own voice. Both Roman Thalia and Praetor Nico look at him curiously.

“Bisnonno,” Praetor Nico says—which attracts the attention of the God of the Dead. “Can you offer any _facts_ about Jason’s death? Even if he’s alive here?”

Letus gets in his face, honey-gold eyes staring directly into Jason’s own. They’re hypnotizing—which is when Jason remembers Percy telling him how enticing death was to mortals. He’s hesitant as he takes a step back.

“My specialty is peaceful deaths, Jason Grace. Old age. Ailments. Stillborn children. Your death does not fall in those categories,” Letus notes. He taps Jason’s head with his iPad. “Though past actions imply your cause of death would have been related to a head injury of some sort.”

Jason rubs his forehead self-consciously. Praetor Nico arches an eyebrow.

“I once guided your mother down to the Underworld. Her alcohol addiction killed her long before the car did,” Letus continues. Jason perks at the mention of his mom—but decides not to press further on it. Letus skims through his iPad again. “I suspect I will be busy again should a pandemic arise. There’s a gray area there—between _peaceful_ deaths and _stupid_ deaths.” 

“But the dead will stay dead this time, right?” Roman Percy says behind him. “Now that you have control again over the Doors of Death, Letus?”

Letus raises his gaze to the son of Neptune, then to Beth. “I see the two of you have finally stopped bickering.”

The couple flash a look at each other, making a face. Jason’s not sure what to make of it.

“I humbly await you when death do you apart,” Letus praises. “But yes, son of Neptune. I have control over the Doors of Death now. I’m often there while my psychopomps come to and fro to the Underworld. It’s a busy job. If my lord knows your time has not come, young master, then there appears to be an internal issue.”

Praetor Nico flashes a look of irritation. “Glad to know my boyfriend going missing is just an _internal issue_ for you, bisnonno.”

“Is he calling the Lord of the Dead _great grandpa_?” Jason whispers to Roman Thalia. She waves her hand dismissively. 

“Yes, Letus,” Hot Pluto continues on Praetor Nico’s behalf. “I wouldn’t make _light_ of an internal issue in regard to my mortal son.”

“Yes, my lord.” Letus scurries through his iPad a little more frantically.

“Jason,” Roman Thalia says suddenly, her voice low as she turns to him. “Dad has dismissed your death three times now. I don’t think you’re going to Elysium just yet.”

Jason shifts uncomfortably. “That doesn’t feel like a sure thing until we find Jace.”

“Death gave you a perfectly good body, Jason.” Praetor Nico’s gaze narrows. “So why are you so set on staying dead?”

“Ah,” Letus finally says. He pauses. “Oh.”

“Oh?” King Hades peers over the shoulder of his lieutenant. His demeanor darkens—and suddenly, the temperature drops around them as the remaining light quells with King Hades’s anger. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Jason asks. “Where’s Jace—?”

King Hades snaps his fingers, and they plummet into darkness.

*

Thalia slams her fists into the table, startling everyone. She glares at Juno, then jabs a finger in the Queen of the Gods. “Are you kidding me? You’ve played with our lives for _years_ and _stole_ my brother, all on your whim, and when one of us actually _wants_ your help, you turn up empty-handed?”

“Thalia,” Jace warns softly, but one name doesn’t dismiss Thalia’s frustration—or Juno’s nonchalance.

“Your brother’s life was promised to me. It was not stolen,” Juno corrects. She narrows her gaze. “This was the deal that was stricken when your mother dared to romance my husband twice, child.”

Thalia scoffs. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to take my brother away from me. Where the fuck do you get off calling yourself the _Goddess of Family_ when you so readily broken mine up?”

Juno stares at her irritably, ready to incinerate the daughter of Zeus. “I wouldn’t call Beryl much of a mother to begin with. Would you?”

“Thalia,” Jace tries again—and he stands to his feet this time, unwilling to go unheard in an argument with his name thrown around once again. He pauses briefly as Thalia’s wretched gaze meets his eye—then turns back to the Queen. Beneath the sadness of his gaze, he casts a rueful look. “I guess I’m not meant to grow up with my sister in any reality, am I?”

“Even I cannot manipulate the Fates, my dear.” Juno’s demeanor shifts—pitiful for the other Grace sibling.

There’s a hiccup in Jace’s inquiry, where his charcoal eyes look even darker from exhaustion. He sucks in a breath slowly. Then—“I…would assume as his patron goddess, you would know him best. You…held his memories for a time. Could you point us in the right direction of the other gods or immortal that Jason might’ve…befriended? Made enemies with?”

“Unlike that one over there—” Juno points to Percy. “—my Jason never went out of his way to anger a god. He was perfect.”

Percy stares back at her, disgruntled, with a chicken leg in his hand. “You know me—gotta keep things interesting.”

“I’m afraid once his time passed, I no longer had dominion over him. He should rest in your father’s realm, Nico di Angelo.” Juno turns to face Nico, and he startles at the address. “Your appearance is… _unexpected_ , my dear. I know of no god who roused when you arrived here. I’d be none the wiser had you not entered my cabin.”

Jace’s demeanor is strained—but he says nothing. He doesn’t have to.

“So Thalia gets a tree to avoid death,” Percy points out, “and Jason gets nothing? Twelve years in the Roman Army, slayer of Krios, and a five second conversation with your husband? Nothing, in his honor? He’s just ignored by the gods?”

“He did what we all wish of our mortal children, Percy Jackson,” Juno dismisses. She eyes him warily, then waves a hand. The napkin on the table lifts and wipe chicken grease off Percy’s unwilling face. “He sacrificed himself to save the world. He died a hero. I believe his hometown carried out his last requests. They built the last of his shrines.”

“That wasn’t his home,” Reyna interjects—which surprises them all. Her expression shifts into something wistful for her old co-praetor. “He never wanted that life, your highness. That’s why he left so easily at first chance.”

Nico nods slowly. “He hated New Rome. The _last_ of his shrines were only his _beginning._ ”

Juno turns her chilling gaze to him, and the torches illuminating the dining hall turn cool. “I’ve already said it once, Nico di Angelo. I cannot control the Fates. I’m proud of my champion.”

“He may be your champion, but he was my brother first,” Thalia snaps. “Dad said nothing about his death, did he? Lady Artemis said as much. Your approval means _nothing_ when he can’t do anything with it!”

The Queen Goddess scowls at her hated stepdaughter. “Perhaps it does not. My champion laid down his life as he was raised. He needn’t the assistance of a god to continue living, such as yourself, _dear_ stepdaughter.”

Her voice drips with both displeasure and disinterest—and the tips of Thalia’s fingers crackle with electricity in response.

Thalia’s smile turns grim, and she glares at Juno. “Dad must’ve been pretty disappointed when he cheated death for me and I swore myself to Artemis, Juno. My lady says he still complains about it.”

“Very few are unwise enough to _disappoint_ my husband, stepdaughter.” Juno doesn’t raise her voice—which in turn, seems to welcome Thalia’s hissing rage.

Jace break the tension by clearing his throat. Slowly, all eyes turn to meet him again, and he stares onward.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Queen Hera,” he apologizes, and his gaze defaults to Nico for a brief moment. He slowly looks back up. “It’s…clear that Jason’s death meant a lot to you, even if it didn’t for Zeus. I know you’re honoring his death as… _best_ as you can—”

His eyes flicker with something—an irritation more subtle in his demeanor than his sister’s.

“—but don’t you deserve more?” he finishes.

Hera eyes him again. “Continue.”

“You’re the Queen of the Heavens, your highness, and the Goddess of Marriage _and_ Family.” Jace curls his hands. “Times have changed from the Ancient ways. The gods being in America is proof of that. A wife has as much power in her relationship as her husband. So…Jupiter’s dismissal of Jason’s death doesn’t mean you have to dismiss it too, right? His death…it doesn’t need to be swept under a rug.”

She stares at him, curiously.

“You’re a bright boy, son of Hades. Quite like my Jason,” she says—and this time, she looks frustrated as she has to repeat herself. “But as I’ve said, I cannot help you.”

Percy slams his hands on the table. “ _Why not_?”

Hera glares at him. “As I’ve said, this isn’t my doing—”

“Jace hasn’t been able to leave Camp Halfblood in _three days_ , and you undid it with the snap of your finger! You’re just choosing _not_ to help,” Percy argues. “Just like when you chose to swap us. How can you talk about how you’re the Goddess of _Family_ , when it wasn’t even three years ago that the children of minor gods didn’t have a home? Even Nico was homeless for a while, and his dad is your _brother!_ ”

Jace cocks his head to Nico. Nico blanches, and shakes his head.

“I cannot interfere with the lives of mortals,” Hera reminds them, her tone rising. “I can only guide. The decisions made by our children are their own.”

“You’re right,” Thalia snaps. “Like how Luke decided to start a war.”

The torchlights go out in a flash. Pomegranates and lilies wilt at the garland around marble columns.

“Sorry,” Jace mumbles, rubbing his eyes. Quickly, everything turns back on. They all stare at him in silence as his demeanor twists.

Suddenly, a large door bursts open. A large box appears first—large enough to fit at least three demigods, followed by a god wearing a pith helmet.

“Hera! Here’s that fancy dining set you ordered from Amazon for the Winter Solstice! Normally I don’t make house calls this time of year but—well, let’s face it, you’d beat me into oblivion if I didn’t do this delivery myself.”

All five demigods turn to face Hermes as he appears, dressed in his nylon running shorts and New York City marathon shirt.

“I’ll just need your signature, and I’ll be on my way,” Hermes says. He raises his caduceus, which turns into an Apple pen as he reaches the matriarch of Olympus. He stares around the room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just aiding a few ungrateful demigods,” Hera mutters. She waves a hand. “Give it here.”

Percy lifts a hand and eyes Hermes’s iPad. “George. Martha.”

The Apple pen hisses candidly, and Percy makes a face.

“Guiding some travelers, huh?” Hermes muses, in much better spirits than anyone else in the room. “I know a thing or two about that. Airplanes. Truck drivers. UPS drivers. Even some spirits from time-to-time. Just call me your GPS—Godly Postal Service.”

He circles the table and pauses in front of Jace.

“Now you’re a familiar face,” Hermes says. He strokes his salt-and-pepper beard and eyes the son of Hades curiously.

Beside Nico, Jace stiffens, his lips pressing into a thin line. Nico curls a hand around Jace’s own.

“Jason shadowtraveled to our universe somehow, Hermes. We’re trying to figure out a way to get him back where he belongs.” Nico pauses, then lifts his gaze to Hermes carefully. “You…wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Jason? Jason Grace?” Hermes strokes his chin again—and suddenly his appearance changes. A purse rests around Mercury’s hips, and he looks through his iPad in a manner that reminds Nico of Thanatos. “No, that can’t be right. I took his spirit down to the Underworld _months_ ago.”

Nico spares a look at Jace, and then his chest tightens. “I can assure you that his spirit never made it down there.”

“What would Hermes know about the Underworld?” Percy interjects. “He’s an Olympian god.”

“I’m a God of Travelers, Percy Jackson,” Mercury comments, and he taps his Apple pen against his tablet. “That includes spirits that must make their way to Charon.”

“He’s a psychopomp,” Nico supplies.

“The messenger of the Gods needs a part-time job?” Percy asks, one eyebrow arched in the air.

“You would too when everyone insists on a family discount,” Mercury grumbles. “Not all of us can afford a palace.”

“Hermes,” Juno tuts. “My silverware.”

“Yes ma’am. Let me just pull up the tracking number on Jason Grace, and…ah!” Hermes beams, clicking the tip of his pen to his iPad. Then his face falls. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Jace frowns.

“You’re right. _Uh_ -oh.” Hermes clears his throat, and his gaze turns back to Jace. He taps his iPad once again, and his Apple Pen turns into his caduceus, Martha and George slithering up the top of the staff. “Well, Mister Grace, it appears there’s been a mistake. If I may, Hera?”

“I expect to be fully reimbursed for my wasted time, Hermes,” Hera grumbles.

“What mistake?” Jace asks—and the irritation is evident in his voice. “How did I—?”

Hermes snaps his fingers, and suddenly, they all disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally getting somewhere! Thank you so much for reading, everyone, I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason stares at the other demigod, unsure of what to say. Slowly, he extends his good hand and introduces himself. “Jason. Son of Jupiter.”
> 
> Jace stares at his extended hand—then meets it with his own. “My friends call me Jace. Son of Hades.”

Darkness.

All Nico sees is darkness—in front of him, behind him, below him, above him—with nothing else around. There’s nothing for miles. Nico looks down and—

And can’t even see his own hands.

“Hermes?” Nico calls. His voice reverberates back towards him.

No answer.

Nico steps forward, trying to fiddle with the darkness in front of him. “Percy?”

Again—just an echo of his own voice vibrating against the shells of his ears. Nico tries to manipulate the darkness at his feet—to sense any souls around him—but nothing. It’s Percy’s magnetic fields and compass metaphor all over again, but Nico can’t leave.

He's—

He's stuck.

Just like Tartarus.

Nico sucks in a breath, his hand shaking at his sides. And again, he calls—“Percy? Reyna?”

The names shout back at him, and Nico starts running to—to get somewhere. Anywhere. To get out of Tar—out of wherever he is.

“Thalia?” Nico shouts—but his voice feels smaller in his ears. “Jason?”

He collides into someone in the dark—

“Oof!”—and relishes in the sound of the other demigod’s voice.

“Percy,” Nico breathes—and his voice trembles at the back of his throat. He _clings_ onto Percy, his fingers shaking at the other demigod’s forearm. “Thank gods—”

“—I can’t see a damn thing,” Percy complains. “Have you seen—Thal—?”

“No,” Nico interrupts, and he focuses— _tries_ to steady his voice. _Tries_ to see Percy in the dark, but just—can’t. “What about Rey—?”

“No!” Percy curses—

And a light cuts through the darkness. A flashlight.

Suddenly, Nico stares up to Percy’s face. He’s met with a confused look that matches his own.

Six bars climb this Percy’s arm, with a Legion tattoo tucked beneath a trident—Neptune’s symbol of power. This Percy’s neck is bare of any beads, his hair shaved into an undercut, and Camp Jupiter purple and gold logo stretched across his chest. He stares down at Nico, puzzled.

This Percy—a _Roman_ Percy—opens his mouth to speak. “Bro—?”

“Percy?”

Another voice cuts through the darkness—and goosebumps rise across Nico’s forearms. He’s quick to pull away from this Percy, mortified, and turns to whoever’s wielding the flashlight.

Blue eyes catch Nico’s attention first. Then the olive skin and mussy hair—

And this other Nico, son of Jupiter, stares at both of them.

*

Jason finds himself in an office. He looks around, trying to reorient himself. Around the room hangs various certificates and achievements—along with photos that read _Employee of the Month_ , _Mercury – UPS, 300 A.G._

“Underworld Psychopomp Service,” mutters a voice beside him. It’s so quiet that Jason startles at the sound of it.

As he turns, Jason’s jaw hangs open.

The other boy sits in the leather seat beside him—with scruffy pale blond hair and charcoal eyes. Jason sees the curve of… _his_ jaw, and _his_ nose. His scar, on his asymmetrical lips on the other demigod.

Jace Grace, son of Hades, peels his attention away from the many accolades to the Messenger God. He lifts his gaze to Jason—and Jace’s oily eyes widen as they lock eyes—the same shock registering on his own face.

They stare at each other in silence—with only the office air conditioner humming above them.

“Oh,” Jace says—though his mouth forms into the _O_ before the word makes it past his lips.

Jason can’t get over it. They sit similarly in their chairs, shoulders tense. Jason’s hands claw at his armrests, and he notices how white Jace’s knuckles are as the other demigod does the same. They lean in a similar matter, taking in one another.

Slowly, Jace raises a hand and points. “You wear glasses.”

Jason blinks. He touches his face.

“Oh—yeah,” he says. He touches his frames carefully. “Sometimes I forget I do.”

Jace stares at him curiously. Bags rest under Jace’s eyes—ragged and tired, and Jason can’t help but wonder if it’s a _Hades_ thing. He wears a stark leather jacket and white t-shirt—which certainly looks better on him, between the two of them. “What happened to your arm?”

Jason looks to his own arm and his heart skips a beat. He cradles it closely to his chest, still not quite happy with the events from yesterday, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I…got a nasty cut from participating in the War Games yesterday.”

“The War Games?” Jace repeats—and it’s laced with the same tone as Praetor Nico’s. Disbelief and concern. Jason’s not sure how to feel hearing the judgment come from technically-himself.

“We were trying to summon a god to get me—get you home,” Jason explains. “It didn’t go as planned.”

Jace falls quiet. There’s a somber quality to him—Jason’s not sure how to place it. It strikes a chord with Jason—and suddenly, he realizes it’s the face he’d made so many times at Edgartan in the days leading to his death.

“I know a thing or two about that,” Jace says finally. “About things not going as planned.”

Jason stares at the other demigod, unsure of what to say. Slowly, he extends his good hand and introduces himself. “Jason. Son of Jupiter.”

Jace stares at his extended hand—then meets it with his own. “My friends call me Jace. Son of Hades.”

Hades. Gods. Jason’s heard that name thrown around in the last few days along with _Jace doesn’t fight_ and _Kronos_ and _the Great Prophecy_ , but it’s strange to see his other self in person. He’s mesmerized by the differences in front of him—how loosely Jace keeps his hair, and how his complexion doesn’t fit Jason’s own California upbringing.

They shake hands, and Jace’s gaze is intense. Jason wonders if the same has ever been said about his own eyes.

“Sorry,” Jace mutters. His voice is soft, but the pitch is the same. “You have my boyfriend’s eyes. They’re a little distracting.”

Jason turns scarlet. He eyes Jace’s bare collarbone as Jace’s eyes fall to his arm, where twelve stripes brand Jason.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees faintly. “You have my…Nico’s.”

Not his boyfriend. Jason glows a darker shade of red as Jace locks eyes with him again.

“I feel like I’m in a dream, man,” Jason says, hoping that his slip-up isn’t too obvious. “I mean—the way Nico and Thalia have talked about you in the last few days. It’s hard to believe that you’re real. That you’re—”

Alive, and not in Jason’s own shoes. He feels silly. Growing up, Jason’s name and lineage were known long before the real him was. When he went missing, Frank had stared at him with awe—as though he was a legend. Stuff like that made him uncomfortable—but he’s doing it now with this other version of himself.

And—much like Jason, Jace doesn’t seem interested in the _lore_ that Jason has learned. Jace perks at _Nico_ and _Thalia,_ his eyes suddenly filling with more emotion that makes them feel more alike.

“How are they?” Jace asks, his voice filled with a tangible concern that makes Jason ache.

“Missing you,” Jason says—and Jace settles in his seat. “I’ve…been doing everything I can think of to try and get you back to them.”

Jace stares at him in a way that reminds Jason of the King of the Underworld from only moments before. The first time Jason met Hades, there was no doubt that Nico di Angelo was his son. The same brooding air, the same aura of calculated and contained power. There’s a softer side to _this_ son of Hades—like when Pluto cast a look to his daughter and called her _my love._

“I was afraid of that,” Jace confesses.

Jason’s throat dries. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been doing everything I can to make sure your Nico is okay,” Jace explains—and his voice is hoarse. He doesn’t match Jason’s tenor. He wipes the exhaustion out of his eyes and hunches forward, taking a moment to collect himself.

Much like Jace, Jason perks at the mention of _his_ Nico. His heart thrums in his chest, a lump swelling in his throat. “You’ve been with him. In…my world.”

It’s strange to think about. Jason left that world back in February—and here Jace was, confirming it was still moving on without him. Jace peers up from his perch. “And you’ve been with mine.”

_Mine._ The word bristles up the back of Jason’s spine—and it seems to fit the other half of the mold, from all the times Praetor Nico has asked for _my Jace._ Again, Jason stares at Jace’s bare collarbone, and his own arm tingles.

It finally occurs to him—what the beads on Praetor Nico’s arm represents.

Oh.

Jason’s eyes widen.

_Oh._

“Something wrong?” Jace asks, his voice soft. He stares down, as though trying to find a stain on his shirt.

“No more than usual,” Jason says—and his voice cracks. “Are you okay?”

Jace stares at him quizzically, evidently not expecting the inquiry—his hand rubbing across his own forearm.

“Nico said you were prone to nightmares,” Jason explains. He tries to regain his composure—instead observing Jace’s tired movements. Jason remembers every instance after every quest—especially on the Argo II—where his nightmares got the better of him. He sees his own tired eyes and slack posture—but never quite to the degree that he sees before him now. “Forgive me, it’s just…you don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep.”

At the mention of his boyfriend’s name, Jace rouses again. His demeanor softens, his hand brushing absentmindedly at his bare neck.

“You picked up on that?” he asks, his voice tired and humorless.

“I listen,” Jason explains.

“What about you?” Jace asks—which puzzles Jason.

“What about me?”

“I’ve…been in your shoes,” Jace replies tentatively—and he gestures to the bandages around Jason’s arms—the ones that Jason had reluctantly pulled out of the other demigod’s line of sight. For all of the anxiousness that Jason felt from a dozen voices around him—assessing him without really _talking_ to him, Jace feels different. It’s like getting a self-reflection with a mirror that can talk back.

“We were trying to summon a god,” Jason repeats softly—and there’s less vigor there. “I mean—I’m technically dead.”

“So you died for a god,” Jace says slowly, “and your logic is to put yourself in danger again to summon a god?”

Jason’s ears blister pink. He caresses his arm and shivers at the amount of blood that was there just a day ago. Jason squeezes his eyes shut to force the thought away. “Not my finest moment.”

No. _That_ had been seconds before, when Roman Percy and he burst through the barricade with the Fifth Cohort banner in hand. That achievement felt so miniscule though, drowned in a pond of Jason’s own blood as he focused on victory rather than his own self.

“You stayed in Camp Halfblood to help my Nico, when you’re—you’re prone to nightmares?” Jason asks. He raises his head and is met with Jace’s grimace. Something about it tells him that Jason only scraped the surface of what happened in his world.

“Not my finest moment,” Jace echoes, and he taps his foot into the ground. His hands are clasped together, eyes even dimmer than the shadows that envelop them. He’s restless.

Jason thinks of all the times he felt anxious. Where everything around him felt like too much and yet not enough at the same time. His mind goes back to the little boy who wandered the woods, crying out for his big sister—and he thinks back to what Thalia—Jace’s Big Sister Thalia—had said about Jace’s own life.

They _both_ lost family at the age of two. Beryl might’ve been alive a little longer after Jason was given away, but they were no longer just _Jason Grace._

“I,” Jace mutters, “just want to go home.”

Jason remembers mumbling that phrase a thousand times before Lupa beat it out of him. New Rome was home now. The pack was home now.

But he reaches out, squeezing Jace’s shoulder with the reassurance he wished he received when he was a toddler. Not the, _Conquer or Die, don’t show weakness_ that was beat into him. Jason will always respect Lupa for being his first mentor—but there was a reason why Camp Jupiter was never a good fit for him.

“We’ll get you there,” Jason promises.

Jace looks back up with his somber charcoal eyes. At first, Jason wonders if that sadness is just inherent to children of Hades. But he knows that isn’t true. He’s seen Nico’s eyes light up enough in the past. It hurt, to see those eyes light up for someone else. Jace’s eyes are his own, even if they’re a different shade. It’s the look Jason carried after the news sunk in that he became praetor. What he wore, when he knew he was going to die.

Except this Jace is supposed to be happy. He’s supposed to be _past_ that. It’s nothing like the photos that decorate Thalia’s and Jace’s apartment.

“Sorry,” Jason says eventually—and he peels his hand away. “I’m not sure where you stand on touching.”

_That_ snaps Jace out of his stupor. Jace stares at him—maybe making the same astute judgments about their similarities that Jason is. Or maybe the differences. Jason’s words pique his interest.

“Where are you going after all of this?” Jace asks finally.

The door behind them bursts open.

Mercury, the Messenger God, appears dressed as a UPS driver, a clipboard in hand. He stares between the two of them nervously—as Letus shuts the door behind him.

“Well now,” Mercury announces—and he sits in a chair across from both of them. “Let’s talk about this little mishap here. Shall we?”

*

“Neeks?” Percy—this Roman Percy —asks, and there’s a familiarity and warmth to his tone that Nico could _never_ imagine. “Why are there two of you?”

Neither Nico can answer. Nico stares at this other version of himself—tanner, with azure blue eyes and well-fitted clothes. This other Nico has Nico’s frame—but he’s a little taller. A little more filled out from a healthier routine while Nico can hardly remember to eat some days.

“You’re Jace’s Nico,” Nico finally says—and his humiliation is so palpable that Nico can taste it. His eyes fall to the colorful set of beads that sit at the other Nico’s wrist—and the envy just _burns._

A symbol of commitment, Hera had called it. Nico spent the last three days staring at Jace’s collarbone—wondering where on earth the son of Hades could have possibly come from. No tattoo defined him—but neither did camp beads. Jace had called Camp Halfblood miserable. Nico suspected maybe that was why Jace didn’t wear them, but that just wasn’t it.

This Other Nico snaps out of his stupor, sizing Nico up in the same manner. His demeanor diminishes with worry and he trudges forward—while Nico glides back. “You’ve seen him? Where is he?”

Nico frowns, slowly backing out of the other Nico’s trail. They halt, with Roman Percy in the middle, and he twitches. “I don’t know. Percy and I were sitting in Olympus with Hermes and Hera—and somehow ended up here.”

“Hera?” Other Nico repeats, and when he frowns, Nico sees too much of himself. “Mammina?”

“ _Mommy_?” Nico repeats, and his gaze narrows.

“This Percy?” Roman Percy chimes in.

They both turn their gazes to the son of Neptune—who jumps. He raises both of his arms in the air, disarmed by the presence of two Nico di Angelos—and darts between the two of them.

Other Nico simmers. His eyebrows mesh together, and his lips stretch into a frown, the tips of his fingers crackling with little ribbons of lighting—and then he ceases. Nico thinks he can imagine what the Other Nico is thinking. It’s been _three days_ since they’ve seen Jace, and the next sighting of him is in name alone. Other Nico is disappointed. Nico would be, too.

“You must be Jason’s Nico,” Other Nico says finally. Nico startles as Other Nico shines the flashlight on him—and bites back the urge to scowl.

It diminishes, when he realizes what Other Nico said. _Jason’s_ Nico.

Jason.

A lump swells in Nico’s throat. For a moment, he forgets all of the irritation and chagrin that was coiling in his chest, and he stands straighter against the light.

“You’ve seen him?” Nico asks, his voice thick. His eyes are warm, and—he can’t keep himself from shaking. It’s hard to breathe. “Jason, he’s—he’s with you?”

Other Nico stares at him, and Nico _hates_ it. He looks with blue eyes that shine too much like Jason Grace, son of Jupiter. If Nico can fathom what Other Nico is thinking, he knows the Other Nico can do the same.

“He was,” Other Nico says finally. “I’m guessing— _hoping_ —he’s with Jace. Otherwise…”

His expression twists, and Nico feels the envy coiling in his stomach there, too.

“Otherwise what?” Roman Percy asks. “Nico—”

They both stare at him again.

“Um. Neeks?” Roman Percy turns to the Roman Nico.

“They might’ve already sent him to the Underworld,” Nico finishes for his counterpart. The bitter taste of anger seeps at the back of his mouth, and his hands curl at his sides. “We won’t see him again.”

“Well that just isn’t fair,” Roman Percy grumbles—and Nico finds himself in the same place as the Other Nico. Simmering.

“Death doesn’t care about fair,” Nico says, and he curls his hands into fists to calm himself before stuffing them in his jacket. “Death is death. If…” He swallows hard. “If Jason is supposed to be dead, then he’ll be dead.”

He’s met with Other Nico’s eyebrow arched high in the air.

Roman Percy, too. “That’s…uh. That’s pretty morbid of you.”

Great. Another Percy to get creeped out and mistrust him at first impression. Nico’s chest tightens and he starts moving in a different direction. “Something clearly happened. We should see if we can find the others.”

His footsteps don’t echo—but he notices that the trail of light starts to get smaller as he walks. When Nico turns around, he notices neither the Other Nico nor the Roman Percy have followed his trail. They stare at him, assessing him. Nico’s not sure what to do with the way Roman Percy’s hand rests on Other Nico’s shoulder.

Nico stifles the ache in his chest.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I could do to prove I’m trustworthy,” he says steadily, with tired exasperation in the pitch of his voice.

Roman Percy pipes up before Other Nico can. “It’s…not that, Neeks. You were pretty freaked out when we ran into each other. Are you okay?”

Nico’s disarmed by the question. _Especially_ coming from this Percy. They met all of twenty seconds ago—yet Roman Percy stares at him with a concern that Nico is just now getting after five years. He stares at Roman Percy—flabbergasted.

“Hey,” Other Nico starts. He reaches out—and Nico shrinks before the other demigod can touch him.

“I’m…I’m fine,” Nico reassure, though he stumbles. He turns around, his heart fluttering in his chest—and then he forces himself to speak. Has to, if he wants them to trust him. “This…darkness is different than what I’ve seen. I…”

He swallows his pride, his hands coiling in his jacket.

“I can’t see through it,” Nico finishes lamely—and his cheeks are hot against the flashlight. “I have no idea where we are right now.”

There’s silence beside him.

Then—two more clicks, and two more tiny beacons of light.

From the corner of his eye, Nico sees a hand reaching out with another handheld flashlight.

“I only have three of these,” Other Nico says. “Hopefully the others will be okay until then.”

Nico stares in surprise—at Other Nico’s pointed look as they lock eyes—and accepts the flashlight with a quiet thank you. His hand brushes against the beads around Other Nico’s wrist, and he listens to the quiet clatter of the beads clacking together.

Behind them, Roman Percy is fiddling with his own flashlight, creating his own light show like a small child. “Look at you, Neeks. Always prepared, aren’t you?”

Other Nico shrugs, his gaze fixated on Nico. And—slowly, he starts to walk beside Nico. “My boyfriend has nightvision. I don’t.”

Roman Percy shakes his head with a mild amusement.

“I keep it in case of emergencies like this. Jason…” Other Nico’s voice trails off. He looks uncomfortable, airing out someone else’s dirty laundry—but he stares at Nico, passing along a piece of information as though it’s a lifeline. “He gets panic attacks from time-to-time. Not often anymore, but—they can get pretty brutal with the wrong triggers.”

There’s a silent question there. The flashlight trembles in Nico’s hand, and he hangs his head in shame.

Other Nico reaches out again—and halts. He sucks in a breath, and simmers behind his scowl. “What. Happened?”

He’s trying to keep his voice steady—but the protective urge is there. Suddenly, every instance Jace defaulted to Nico makes sense. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the beads at Other Nico’s wrist, and just how candidly Jace and he utter the phrase _my boyfriend._

“All the wrong triggers,” Nico says—because he can’t lie. Not to himself. Not when he still feels shame for not being able to pick up on Jace’s discontent. He shifts uncomfortably, swallowing the lump at the back of his throat. “Jace, he…wanted to leave the first day, but then he insisted on staying to help people grieve. For me.”

_What good would it do to tell you I’m in love with you too if I’m **leaving** ,_ Jace had asked—after all the exhaustion had set in. Jace had basically banned him from going to Tartarus again the same way their dad did—and that had stung, too. Nico was ashamed to have a Jason Grace look down on his decision—but he understands now.

Other Nico’s hand coils into a fist. He repeats, “For _you_.”

Nico raises his head to the frown against the Roman Nico. His chest tightens, and he shakes his head. “Not like that. Jace, he…he loves you a lot. He said as much.”

Other Nico blinks, his hand uncoiling at his side. Slowly, the look of surprise diminishes and his hand falls to the beads at his wrist. His shoulders slack.

“We couldn’t get out of Camp Halfblood,” Nico continues softly. “Jace—he tried. He really did. It just—”

“It got worse,” Other Nico finishes for him, his own voice a frustrated mumble. He shuts his eyes and sighs before hanging his head. “Gods, Jason…”

He mutters something else under his breath that Nico can’t quite catch—and then Other Nico looks back up to him.

“Jason has a tendency to throw himself into danger,” Other Nico says finally. “If he thinks he needs to.”

Nico stares at Other Nico, perplexed. “I know. He and my Jason—”

“I was talking about both of them,” Other Nico interjects, his gaze narrowed. “I’ve _been_ talking about both of them.”

Nico tries to decipher Other Nico’s words. When he does, he feels his stomach sink. “Jason had panic attack?”

_His_ Jason. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter.

“Ah,” Roman Percy suddenly interjects—and his expression shrivels as they both look at him. “That one was my fault. I wasn’t looking when Kahale cut him open.”

“Cut him open?” Nico repeats, and the ire grows in his tone. 

“Not your fault,” Other Nico dismisses quickly—and he and Roman Percy stare at each other, evidently chasing the same circle in a worn-out conversation. “It…we were trying to help him get home. Thalia and I—we were trying to avoid anything that would give him PTSD, but—”

“He threw himself into danger,” Nico interjects. His chest tightens. “That sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” Other Nico agrees, and his voice fills with the same ire.

“I…” Nico’s voice shrivels in his throat. He can’t get Jace’s panicked look out of his mind, scrambling to leave Camp Halfblood behind. Now he’s worried about Jason, too. “I didn’t see any of the signs—”

“Not your fault,” Other Nico dismisses once again. He pinches the bridge of his nose as they continue walking—at a much faster pace. “Jason has a tendency not to share about himself. Not if he thinks it’s unnecessary. Say, for a quest or something.”

Nico stares at the Other Nico in a quaint surprise. Other Nico’s gaze flits back to him—looking as uncomfortable as Nico feels.

“You’re quite the expert,” Nico remarks, his voice faint.

“You just have to ask,” Other Nico says, and he makes a face. “Otherwise he’s busy asking other people how _they’re_ feeling. You think it wouldn’t be so _hard_ for him to express his feelings but Camp Halfblood—”

He ceases from going on an impending rant, the flashlight rattling with different brightness settings in his fist.

“You get the idea,” Other Nico says finally. “At least I hope you do.”

He doesn’t say it in his words, but Nico can see it in his eyes. Nico _better_ get the idea. After everything Nico’s learned about Jace—and how much of it he wondered applied to his own Jason, Nico knows. He just wishes he knew earlier.

Jason died because of it. Jace had a meltdown over it.

“Not your fault,” Other Nico repeats—when it shows on Nico’s face. His demeanor twists. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. Jace won’t magically get better and stop doing things that are harmful to him. We all do stuff like that.”

“Shit happens,” Roman Percy supplies, and the Other Nico nods.

“Shit happens,” Other Nico agrees—and he and Roman Percy share a look, nodding in tandem. Nico’s not sure how to handle it. “I’ll tell you one thing, though.”

Nico stares. The corner of Roman Percy’s lips etches into a tiny smile.

“I,” Other Nico declares, “am going to _kill_ whatever god thinks this is funny.”

*

“So, there’s been a mistake,” Mercury explains. He sits in one executive leather seat while Thanatos sits in the other. Mercury is poised, in a polished business suit with a green tie patterned in tortoises. The Apple Pen in his hand seems to hiss—and he stares at both Jasons with a nervous demeanor.

Jason and Jace share a look, then Jason clears his throat.

“I’m…sorry, could you clarify something?” Jason asks. “Are you… _my_ Mercury, or Jace’s?”

“Jace…who’s…ah! You’ve made yourselves distinguishable,” Mercury says. He claps his hand, having a _eureka!_ moment while Thanatos leers in the background. “That would’ve been smart—”

“I’m sorry,” Jace interrupts this time. He pauses—and both Jason and he look at each other again, “you…mentioned something about a _tracking number_ up in Olympus, sir?”

“Yes, my boy! Tracking numbers make things so easy these days. And mortals can just look packages up with a click of a button! Isn’t that amazing?” Mercury asks.

Thanatos clears his throat beside Mercury. “On behalf of my lord, I believe he would like it if you skipped to the correct explanation, Mercury.”

Mercury falters under the Death God, his lips twisting into an unenviable grimace.

“Dad?” Jace asks—and his voice is soft with concern.

“He sends his best regards, young master,” Thanatos assures—and even he addresses Jace with a warmth that beguiles Jason. Jace seems to fall back in his seat, looking less filled with worry.

“Yes,” Mercury says—and he taps his pen against his tablet. “It appears you died around Valentine’s Day, Jason. Cupid’s day!”

A sinking feeling yanks at Jason’s chest at the mention of _that_ name. Jason turns his head ever so slightly—to check on Jace’s reaction, then catches Jace staring at him at the same time.

“So here’s the thing about packages, Mister Grace,” Mercury continues. He gestures vaguely at the air in front of him. “During the year, there are… _peak_ times, where orders come in. You know, during the holidays. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day—Valentine’s Day. People like to get presents for their loved ones. You get the picture?”

Jason stares. “Well…my mom’s dead, sir. And my dad…”

“Yes, well—ahem.” Mercury clears his throat before they can start talking about Jupiter. Jason can feel Jace staring at him again. “What I’m getting at is— _sometimes_ , when it’s that busy time of the year, orders can slip between fingers. Maybe you ordered something to show up in Long Island Sound, but your tracking number says it ended up in—say, Guam. Usually when a package gets lost, a customer just reorders it. The Amazons! They have this nifty little button now where when you press it, you can report the item lost or stolen—”

Thanatos clears his throat, and Mercury’s nervous rambling comes to a halt.

Jason gets the picture though. His hands grow numb at his armrests—and slowly, he brushes one against his chest like he’s done a thousand times.

“I died,” Jason says slowly—and he tries to keep his voice steady. Tries. “And you’re telling me my soul didn’t make it down to the Underworld because you…you made a _mistake?_ Because you _lost_ me?”

“Now, now Mister Grace—you have to remember everything that was going on during the time,” Mercury says defensively, holding his hands in front of him. “Valentine’s Day is one of the busiest times of the year. So many people ordering flowers. Plus—you know brother Apollo, he had his _Trials_ going on. So many people died!”

Jason stares, his hands twitching at his sides. His chest aches—in two places specifically. “Sir, _I_ died.”

“Yes, yes, Mister Grace,” Mercury says—and his voice is dismissive. “We’re not perfect. I may be the God of Commerce, but even _I_ can’t anticipate the mortal needs. Just so you know, there is going to be a _huge_ spike in the demand for toilet paper next year—and surgical masks. I _still_ don’t know the reason for that one.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say. His chest grows numb, and he hangs his head.

A mistake. He ended up in another universe because of a _mistake._

“I,” Jason says softly, “thought this had something to do with a quest.”

As he says it aloud, Jason feels like an idiot. He can’t shake that feeling after three days of trying to find the reason as to why the Gods weren’t done with him. Jason’s life meant so little to Olympus that Mercury paid no heed to make sure he made it down to the Underworld _safely._

He snaps out of his thoughts as Jace reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. Jason doesn’t realize how lightheaded he feels until he looks to Jace’s tired, charcoal eyes.

“No, Mister Grace,” Mercury says—and he skirts through his iPad. “Looks like you weren’t due for another one of those for a while, if ever. I think you can agree with me that Apollo’s sudden mortality was—well…sudden.”

The power outlets suddenly spark—attuned to Jason’s agitation. They make a _CRACKLE_ sound, and both Thanatos and Mercury look on, unflinching.

Jace flashes a look of concern—and while Jason’s cheeks bloom with red, he feels cold. Numb.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

Jason has a hard time looking the Messenger God in the eye. He _died_ , stabbed repeatedly by arrows and spears, was injured by Michael Varus’s sword, and even saw Juno’s godly form. And that was all in the last year alone. Jason toed the line of life and death, committed his life to serving the gods even after he could finally close the door on how much he hated Camp Jupiter—just for Mercury to dismiss it as a _mishap._

“That’s quite alright, Mister Grace,” Mercury reassures—though his voice is slick. Jason doesn’t expect sympathy—not from a god. “You can’t _imagine_ how often my customer service gets blasted by upset customers. The _nerve_ of some people—”

And some gods, Jason wants to say. He can’t find his voice.

“And me, sir?” Jace asks quietly, when Jason can’t muster a response. His hand hasn’t left Jason’s shoulder. Neither has the sinking feeling in Jason’s gut.

Jason looks up though, as he realizes how tense Jace sounds. Mercury changes into his Greek form—Hermes, and Jace seems to flinch.

“As you know, I _am_ the God of Travelers,” Hermes starts. He grimaces and makes a few gestures on his iPad—then turns it into an extra-large screen for both of them to see. “I help travelers to their destination. Once the reorder was sent for Mister Grace, son of My Dad here—”

He points to Jason with his pen.

“—there were suddenly _two_ Jason Graces that needed to go down to the Underworld,” Hermes finishes. A little animation flickers on the iPad, showing two cartoon Jason Graces being plucked by a god wearing a winged helmet—before they swap places on screen. “Some wires got crossed. Looks like your father rejected the paperwork here to make Mister Jason Grace a citizen of the Underworld. He booted you out of his realm and sent you home, brother.”

Jason stares. He was a speck at death for the throne of Olympus, and booted out of the Underworld before he ever had the chance to settle in.

“I,” Jace interjects, and his voice strained, “don’t consider Camp Halfblood my home anymore, sir. I still don’t understand. Queen Hera didn’t acknowledge me as her son when I met her. Why would you have anything to do with where I ended up?”

“Juno acknowledged me as what?” Jason turns his head to Jace, wondering if he heard correctly.

Jace looks back to him with charcoal eyes, his expression solemn, but soft. He nods gently.

“You’re a smart one, cousin,” Hermes remarks. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly—another Hermes appears. The first one—Jason’s Messenger God—turns into Mercury, with a satchel appearing at his hip.

“What—?” Jace’s Hermes looks around, an earpiece nestled in his ear. “Mercury! You know how busy this time of year is! Christmas is just around the corner! You promised me you’d cover Norway for me!”

“Yes, Hermes,” Jason’s Mercury agrees. “I’ll let you go now—I’m just proving a point.”

He waves his hand, and Hermes disappears with a harrumph.

Mercury looks at them expectantly, as though that explanation is enough. “We Messenger Gods—we try to help each other out around the holidays. My buddy, Hermes, and I must have seen the name _Jason Grace_ and gone with what we know. It appears Hermes has some untoward feelings for you, cousin?”

The flowers in Mercury’s vase wilt within the blink of an eye. It isn’t gradual, like Jason has seen with Nico, but sudden. The gesture is so quick that Jason can only compare it to the quick crackle of the power outlets. He turns to Jace, who looks more tense in his seat.

“Sorry,” Jace mumbles, displeased. “Yes, sir.”

He stares at the messenger god, evidently ill at ease again. Before he can help himself, Jason reaches out and squeezes Jace’s leg. He feels his own protectiveness climbing in his chest—and he frowns critically Mercury.

“This…doesn’t have anything to do with that _Luke_ boy, does it?” Jason asks—and the moment he does, the lights flicker. Jason turns—and notices Jace’s face twist. “Your son, sir?”

He plays a dangerous game mentioning that name. Mercury stares at him—and for all the frantic energy that Mercury carried earlier, it disappears with a serious glint.

“Astute observation, brother,” Mercury says—and his form changes into Hermes again, with his winged hat. “But no. The boy you’re referring to is my son in another life. Much like how both my cousin and brother can co-exist here, now, in my office. That boy is long gone. He had to die.”

Jace raises his head—and Jason notices carefully.

“This incident was purely transactional,” Hermes continues. He tips his helmet and shows his iPad again. On the screen are two identical tracking numbers under the name _Jason Grace_ , with matching cartoon Jasons. “I doubt my counterpart gave your file anything more than a glance before he went on his merry way.”

“So two mistakes,” Jason points out—and Hermes looks at him. Hermes’s eyes glint, and Jason’s forearms prickle with goosebumps.

“That doesn’t bode well,” Jace mutters under his breath. He rubs his eyes. “The Messenger God losing track of two… _packages._ ”

His voice leaks of displeasure. Jason doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t like the thought of being reduced to nothing more than an envelope, either.

At that string of words, Hermes’s lips stretch into a tense smile. Jason wouldn’t call it maniacal—not manipulative, like Octavian. But he has experience losing the favor of a god in one string of words as he does getting them on his side.

Thanatos clears his throat—reminding them of his presence in the chair beside the animatic messenger god. “Let me remind you, Hermes, that you’re an employee of the Underworld. _Mistakes_ like that will not be tolerated by my lord. Especially regarding his son.”

At the mention of the King of the Dead, Hermes’s keen demeanor falters with fear.

“Yes, well—surely we can, ah, let this incident slide…?” Hermes asks reluctantly—which is met with a stoic silence.

“What do you think, young master?” Thanatos turns his head to Jace with a muted glee. “Should we let this incident slide?”

Hermes turns his head to Jace in anticipation. For the first time since this whole incident started, the Messenger God has his full attention on Jace. Jace looks back, exhausted. He rubs his forehead in a manner that Jason’s done so many times himself—then exhales slowly.

“I just want to go home,” Jace says finally. “Is that an option? Can Dad deal with it?”

Hermes’s face twists with horror—while Thanatos smiles.

“I can assure you that your father will be glad to hear you respect his judgment,” the God of Death says. “Hermes, on behalf of my king, I believe you owe his son retribution.”

Hermes makes a face—one unfit for a powerful god—before a thermos appears in front of him. “Very well. This bag of winds will get you home, cousin. You won’t get lost this time. Messenger God’s honor.”

Jace stares at the canister skeptically—and takes it in his hands. “Thank you, Hermes.”

“And you, kid—” Suddenly, Hermes faces Jason. “—where do you want to go?”

Jason stares back in confusion. He splays a palm to his chest, rubbing it as it tingles. “I’m…not sure I follow, sir.”

“You have a body now. As far as I know, one of the prerequisites to becoming a citizen of the Underworld is death,” Hermes explains.

Thanatos’s hand ripples until a black iPad appears at his palm. He flits through the screen and shows off what appears to be a death certificate—with **REJECTED** stamped across the front in bright red letters. “An unfortunate mishap thanks to one of our employees, boy. Or fortunate, depending on your point of view.”

Jason’s throat dries. He stares at the document carefully—where his name is printed in careful letters with both his date of death and birthday beside it. His eyes grow glassy and warm as he searches for a loophole.

He startles as Jace reaches to touch his arm again.

“So,” he says slowly. “This…body…?”

Thanatos hums an exhausted tune and nods. “My king dismissed the death of his son, Jason Grace, in our world, son of Jupiter. If you are not dead, then you are alive. And to be alive—”

“I need a body,” Jason finishes—though his own voice is faint in his ears.

“Here at UPS, we _honor_ our mistakes,” Thanatos says—and he stares judgingly at an irate Hermes. “However, your death was nearly a year ago, son of Jupiter. If you are committed to that decision, I will see to it that you will go to Elysium where you belong.”

A lump swells at the back of Jason’s throat.

“So which will it be, brother?” Hermes asks. “Would you like to be dead or alive?”

*

Nico spends too long feeling the eyes of this Roman bunch—this Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, and Other Nico, son of Jupiter. They whisper too loudly about him—something Nico would’ve found stupidly endearing about Percy in another lifetime. He catches his other self staring more than once. Mostly because he keeps doing the same. Roman Percy slings an arm around Other Nico—a sense of familiarity that just feels _weird._

“So,” Roman Percy asks after a heavy silence, from two meters away. “Why are you so short?”

Nico halts, while Roman Nico lets out an exasperated sigh.

“ _Percy_ ,” Roman Nico reprimands—and the two of them are just _too_ acquainted with each other.

“What?” Nico asks—and the pitch of his own voice startles the other Nico. How similar it is.

Roman Percy stares between the two of them, his lips twisting into a nervous grimace. “Sorry—this is just…really weird, you know?”

Other Nico looks on with exasperation, shining his flashlight at the son of Neptune. “No—”

“—do tell,” Nico finishes for him, the irritation present in his own voice. They exchange looks—and again, Nico is placated by how similar they are. It’s just _too_ weird.

“ _Gods_ ,” Roman Percy whispers under his breath. “ _Too weird._ Of all the things you apply comic book logic to, _this_ is the one that had to be right, Neeks?”

_Neeks_ stares at Roman Percy with a wry look, his other hand tucked in the pocket of his jacket. “I’m sorry my boyfriend’s disappearance has been such an inconvenience for _you_ , Percy.” 

Roman Percy smiles innocently, with no air of anger exchanged between them.

Slowly, Roman Nico turns and shines his flashlight at Nico. “Is yours like this?”

Nico wrinkles his nose. “My what?”

“…se Girl, how did you end up here?!”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Beth?” Roman Percy calls out—his voice is filled with a worry that Nico is finally familiar with.

They turn to the sounds of other voices. Nico is quick to run at the sound of Percy’s— _his world’s Percy’s_ —voice. All three of them shine their flashlights in time to watch Beth Chase, daughter of Athena judo flip Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.

“ _Gah!”_ Percy groans, and Nico clamps a hand over his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he notices the other Nico doing the same, biting back a laugh.

“Dude,” Roman Percy cries. “What the hell are you doing to my girlfriend?”

Nico gets a better look at _this_ Annabeth Chase—and understands why Percy got confused. This Annabeth has the same gray eyes and curly blond hair—and no doubt the same number of beads across her neck. She wears the same New Rome University pullover as the day Percy and she arrived to Camp Halfblood. However—this one stares onward in confusion, her gaze sharp as she has Percy pinned. Nico gets the quickest glimpse of an owl tattooed to her arm. 

“Percy?” she asks.

“I’m getting my ass kicked,” Percy bites back from the ground, groaning once more. “What do you _think_ is happening?”

Beth’s eyes dart between her boyfriend and the son of Poseidon pinned under her knee. She stares between both Nicos, while—

“Whoa,” Roman Percy mutters, shining a flashlight at Percy’s face.

Percy looks up from his bind, not quite wrestling out of this Annabeth’s grip. He pauses, and stares at the son of Neptune upside-down. And repeats, “Whoa.”

“Jason’s Percy,” Other Nico explains. He shines the flashlight at Percy—then to Nico. Nico twitches under the light. “Jason’s Nico.”

Beth blinks, taken aback. Then she pulls away from Percy and slowly helps him to his feet. Percy groans softly and rubs his head before reassessing the situation. His eyes widen, head ping-ponging between both Nicos and his Roman self.

“Nico?” Percy asks.

“Which one?” Other Nico muses. Much like Nico, Percy stares in confusion at the ease and familiarity.

“Yes,” Nico confirms.

“You’re not my girlfriend?” Percy turns his attention to Beth—who had him pinned down two seconds ago. “Wise Girl?”

Beth doesn’t react to the nickname. A blond eyebrow arches into the air and she shakes her head. “I’ve never been called that, no.” 

Percy looks crushed.

“Percy,” Nico interjects, and the son of Poseidon looks back at him, trying to reorient himself. “We left Annabeth with Hazel and the others. The only ones that came with us were Reyna and Thalia. Remember?”

Percy looks doubtful, like he doesn’t want to be in _any_ universe where Annabeth Chase doesn’t recognize him. It used to eat at Nico with jealousy—but now it doesn’t.

“Annabeth is safe,” Nico promises. “We’ll get back to her after all of this is over. Nothing’s going to hurt her.”

That snaps Percy out of it. He shrinks to Nico’s side, speechless—and Nico flushes as he feels Roman Percy and Roman Nico take in the entire exchange. This Annabeth returns to her boyfriend’s side, occasionally stealing cautious glances in Percy’s direction.

“This is too weird,” Percy mutters to Nico.

“Tell me about it.” Nico sighs—and then jumps again, as other Nico shines the flashlight in his face. “Can you please stop—”

“Who all came with you?” Other Nico asks. “You said Percy, Reyna, and Thalia. No one else?”

Nico stares warily at his counterpart, unappreciative of being interrupted—but he understands. The longer they’ve gone, the antsier Other Nico is to be reunited with his boyfriend. Especially after learning about Jace’s panic attack. Nico wishes he could have the same opportunity with his own Jason.

“Um—no one else,” Percy interjects. “Nico—”

He pauses as they both look at him.

“Nico,” Percy tries again—and he turns to the son of Hades specifically. “Where are we? Why’s it so dark?”

“If I knew that, then we’d be out of here by now,” Nico admits. He feels the embarrassment wash over him again and tugs at the end of his sleeve.

Percy stares at him. “I don’t like this. It’s like—”

“I know,” Nico interrupts—and he feels a wave of guilt wash over him. It’s chilling, as the goosebumps rise against his forearms, and the anxiousness rises in his chest. He watches as Percy sneaks a glance to Beth Chase again, wondering if this other Daughter of Athena is okay.

“Bianca and I were standing next to each other when we left,” Beth suddenly says—and another cold wave spikes through Nico’s chest. “She shouldn’t be too far from us.”

Nico cocks his head at the name, his eyes wide. He doesn’t miss the way that the other three demigods stare back at him inquisitively.

Other Nico reacts first, taking in the look of shock and confusion across Nico’s face.

“Bianca?” Percy repeats, when Nico is still trying to register the name. He stands a little taller—and that tenseness returns to his voice. The one from the forest. “Nico’s Bianca?”

Bianca and Jason, all hardly in a breath away. Nico chokes on the air around him.

Hardly a breath away, but—

“Not my Bianca,” Nico says—but his voice shakes. He thinks back to Jace’s memory of his blue-eyed sister, and a lump swells at the back of his throat. Her miserable, worried face as she looked around Jace’s Camp Halfblood and cried because her brother wasn’t there. Because they weren’t together anymore.

Definitely not his Bianca.

Percy opens his mouth first. “Nico—”

“This way,” Nico interrupts, and he takes a sharp turn to the left.

Percy scampers behind him with blind trust, while the others are more reluctant to follow. “Are you sure?”

“I can feel someone over here,” Nico insists. Now that he’s focused. Now that he knows he’s not alone in the dark. He latches to Percy’s side without holding onto him—but Percy is a presence that he needs, compared to the other demigods behind them.

He turns around and shines the flashlight to the trio behind them. Beth, Roman Percy, and Other Nico stare back—and Nico doesn’t want to meet Other Nico in the eye.

Percy looks like he’s still trying to wrap his head around their doppelgangers. He has a worse time hiding his panic—but again, he shrinks to Nico’s side. “I trust Nico’s judgment.”

Other Nico nods slowly. “Jace can sense souls. I’m assuming you can, too.”

Beth and he exchange looks, and Nico faults himself—knowing that this Annabeth Chase and Jace are childhood friends, but never actually asking about Jace’s life.

“I’ve never met a Neeks I couldn’t trust,” Roman Percy says warmly, and Nico tries not to shake his head in disbelief.

After the initial shock, Percy unsurprisingly makes friends with the demigods from Jace’s world. He’s always been good at that—without the demure and _eeriness_ that came with being a child of Hades.

They walk, with Nico taking the lead while Percy strikes up a conversation with his Roman counterpart and not-girlfriend.

It’s strange, as they make comparisons of each other’s lives, filling in the empty space as they try to maneuver out of the darkness. Percy stumbles a few times in _Percy Jackson_ fashion, and Roman Percy eerily matches the cadence of his voice.

Nico just wishes Other Nico didn’t take that as a sign to walk in tandem with him.

“Do you sense them?” Other Nico asks. “Jace and Jason, I mean?”

Nico’s hand tightens around his flashlight and he keeps his gaze forward. Has to, so he doesn’t focus on the differences in them as much as their similarities. Other Nico has clearer eyes, like Jason. A pristine blue.

It’s been a long time since Nico’s seen any color to his skin, while this Other Nico looks like he spends all day bathing in the sun. He’s more sociable with a Percy and Annabeth at his side, and—and Nico doesn’t have that.

This other Nico never had to worry about earning Percy’s trust. This Nico had Jason. _Bianca._

“No,” Nico admits.

“But you said you sensed a soul.”

“ _A_ soul.” Nico shake his head. “I don’t know if it’s the soul we’re looking for. This—whatever it is—is new for me. It’s not the Underworld. It’s not Tartarus.”

Other Nico visibly stops. Nico turns to face his other self, daring the son of Jupiter to say more. They look at each other, Nico’s lips pressed into a thin line. Other Nico stares back at him, evidently taken aback—but says nothing else in return.

“Bianca,” Other Nico starts—which is worse for Nico’s soul. His voice is soft. “She’s dead over there?”

Nico’s expression tightens. _Over there_ , because she’s _not_ dead, over here. With this Other Nico and with Jason Grace.

“How?” Other Nico asks. “The Huntresses?”

Nico trudges faster, unwilling to participate in this conversation. He doesn’t want to get his soul examined by the Other Nico—no more than it already has been. But Other Nico persists behind him—because Nico would do the same for other people. Has, for Piper and Leo. For Reyna, before she left.

“She didn’t come back?” Other Nico asks, on Nico’s heels.

“Why would she?” Nico whirls around, and he almost collides nose-first with the Other Nico. They stare at each other, stature so similar and yet askew. Azure blue against black flint.

Other Nico stares back at him, his expression hard. He doesn’t falter the way Percy would, or tread cautiously like Jason used to, before they were friends.

“For us, Nico,” Other Nico says—and Nico’s chest tightens.

His eyes warm with tears, and his hands curl into fists at his sides as he tries to keep his feelings at bay. There’s no grass to wither. Darkness already consumes them—darkness of someone else’s—and Nico refuses to let it overtake him.

Bianca is a dull ache. A five-year-old scar that will decorate his heart for as long as he grows old—but he won’t open that wound again.

“No,” Nico says finally. “I…I have Hazel.”

He says that name, and Other Nico seems to understand. Those pristine blue eyes flicker with a different emotion, and his free hand falls to his side.

_We’re still close_ , Hazel had said. Seeing Other Nico react to that makes Nico sigh in relief.

Off in the distance, he hears more whispering.

“…ead in our world. Stayed dead….ran away for a while.”

“….y would she stay dead? Our Nico, he…Legion…Thalia—”

The anger spikes in Nico now—but he doesn’t react. Other Nico does.

“Don’t you have something more interesting to talk about than our upbringing?” Other Nico asks wryly, and his expression twists with a disapproval that Nico is feeling. His gaze narrows at his own Percy, and Roman Percy jumps under his glower.

Nico’s Percy looks guilty. “Sorry, Nico—I’m just—I’m worried about you.”

“Please don’t be,” Nico snaps—but he relinquishes his anger when he notices Percy frown.

The ire is innate— _especially_ now—but Nico’s back tingles from when Percy smacked it and urged him to move forward.

He sucks in a breath—and as he turns to face his other self, Nico finds the Roman Nico already meeting his gaze.

“I get it,” Nico says. “This is weird. Whatever deity made this happen—it’s bizarre. What’s important now is finding the others and getting Jace home.”

The talking ceases, and they come to an agreement. Nico watches as the Other Nico folds a hand over the camp beads on his wrist, whether the latter demigod is cognizant of it or not.

“What about Jason, Nico?” Percy asks—and Nico just _wishes_ he didn’t. “I mean—if this was a swap, what if he’s alive, too—?”

“Dude.” Roman Percy claps a hand on the son of Poseidon’s shoulder, and he shakes his head slowly.

Nico peers back up. There’s that concern across Roman Percy’s face again, and it’s unsettling to see that it’s for _him._ It was only a few days ago that Nico told Percy not to play with the _what-ifs_. Jace’s universe is the biggest _what-if_ that Nico has ever had to deal with, and he’s trying his best to keep his composure.

“This way,” Other Nico says suddenly, and he points. “Right?”

With a sigh of relief, Nico nods.

They find her.

A Bianca past the age of twelve, with the same azure blue eyes that were in Jace’s memories. With freckles that spill across her face like constellations and hair as dark as the evening sky. She stands there with who Nico can only assume is the other world’s Reyna—with short black hair and purple scarf, patterned with a golden laurel and _SPQR_ stitched into the edge of the fabric.

No braids. No silver jackets, no quiver of arrows.

When they look over to the source of the flashlights, Bianca _moves_ , and Nico’s eyes swell with tears.

“Nico!” This one brightens with a smile, her hand crackling with electricity to light her own way. She _floats_ as she walks, and she throws her arms around the Other Nico, who stumbles on impact. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you find Jace?”

Her eyes are full of relief as she curls her hands over Other Nico’s shoulders. A smile stretches across her face, and she holds his cheeks to inspect him.

“I’m— _fine_ ,” Other Nico insists, and his face flourishes pink. “ _Stop that._ ”

Bianca reels back and frowns.

Other Nico sighs. Then finally, “Are you okay?”

“Better, with you here.” Bianca’s lips stretch into a smile, while Nico’s chest aches with every word that flutters from her mouth.

He hates that Other Nico is already trying to find him in the darkness. Trying to gauge his reaction, as Nico shirks behind Percy and tries to make himself as small as he can. He _hates_ that everyone is suddenly looking at him—Percy, Roman Percy, Beth Chase—and even this Reyna, who apparently never left New Rome.

“What are you looking at?” Bianca suddenly asks.

Percy opens his mouth first. “Nico—”

“No,” Nico cuts him off and squeezes his eyes shut. Then he hesitates, reminding himself that Percy is trying to give an _inch_ , after so many miles ignored. “I’m not—I’m not ready.”

He doesn’t want this.

Five years of trying to find and move forward from Bianca, and Nico doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.

But—just like how Bianca swept the rug from under him every time Nico tried to recover, _this_ Bianca rips that bandaid off, too.

He can hear a conversation going on—of Other Nico and Bianca discussing something, of this short-haired Reyna reuniting with Beth and Roman Percy (“Let me guess—Neeks gave you an emergency boyfriend flashlight, too?” “No—this one’s for all emergencies.”) and—suddenly, her hair tickles him from above.

When Nico opens his eyes, he finds the other world’s Bianca di Angelo floating above him, much like her namesake. She stares at him curiously—with none of the rueful grief of his Bianca’s ghost.

No silver parka, Nico reminds himself. No circlet, no braid, no quiver of arrows. No…tattoo, either. Camp beads hang under her Peter Pan collar.

Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Zeus, stares at him curiously. “Nico?”

Nico’s throat dries.

A ribbon of lightning shoots through the sky—and strikes the ground with a violent force.

_CRAAAACK_

*

“I choose death, sir.” Jason curls his hand over his own arm and stares up to Hermes with finality.

The Messenger God stares at him skeptically, one eyebrow arched in the air. “You sure about that, kid? You’re talking about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. There are _thousands_ of other spirits that would _envy_ being in your shoes right now.”

“My lifetime ended after Caligula struck me.” Jason slowly brushes his palm against his chest. “You said someone put a reorder in for my soul. That means Pluto noticed that I was supposed to make it down to the Underworld.”

Thanatos hums in agreement, his hand flitting over his iPad. “Yes. It says here that it was related to an incident that happened this past summer. Someone was _slow_ in answering this complaint.”

Hermes tugs at his collar nervously, his lips twitching into an unenviable smile. 

“Jason.” Jace touches his arm gently, and Jason turns to face his other self. Jace’s eyes emanate with surprise—like even he didn’t expect Jason’s decision. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hermes is right. A lot of people died helping Apollo.” Jason curls his hand against his chest, the ache reappearing from Caligula’s spear—but then he stifles it. “It’s not fair to the others who died if I’m the only one who comes back to life. If… _I_ get that opportunity, then the rest of them need to, too. Your dad’s been really nice to me, Jace.”

Jason self-consciously rubs the bandages over his arm again, his chest aching at the way Hades looked at him. Jupiter addressed him after sixteen years and pushed him away in two seconds. Hades seemed to love Jason Grace, no matter what universe—even when Jason wasn’t the right son for the King of the Dead.

“But,” Jason continues, “I don’t think he wants to deal with all the paperwork with bringing _that many_ demigods back to life. Don’t you think?”

He turns his attention to the other demigod, electing to ignore both Death and Hermes in that instance. They take each other in, and Jason watches the subtle changes in Jace’s expression. The doubt—and the understanding behind his decision.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Jace agrees. “There’s finality in death. It happens for a reason.”

“Very well then. I’ll send the proper paperwork to my other self, young master.” Thanatos fiddles with his iPad, and then shows Jason’s death certificate again. The bright red **REJECTED** is replaced with the word **REPROCESSING**. “It appears your friends were urgent in their funeral arrangements, son of Jupiter. They celebrated your life in New Rome and saw to it that you had proper coinage for your journey to the Underworld.”

“Guess I took a detour.” Jason rubs his forehead and stands to his feet as Hermes shifts into his Roman form.

Mercury studies Jason in a way that he doesn’t expect.

“I was there when you tried to talk our father down from Apollo’s punishment, kid,” he notes casually. Mercury hesitates—then taps his head. “Dad’s ears have been stuffed with nimbus clouds for the last few millennia now. What you said up there was—”

“Stupid?” Jason guesses.

“Sincere,” Mercury corrects. “We gods—we don’t question the way he rules. When things change—when the old ways die, we die too. That’s what happened to the Nature God the satyrs worship. Pan. You can ask Percy Jackson about that one. But for you—brother-to-brother—I know what it’s like to only have twelve seconds with Dad.”

Jason twitches at that reminder. He runs a hand across his bandages, reluctant. “You…think things would’ve turned out differently if I held my tongue?”

“Probably not. Dad is stubborn. But Apollo is _way_ less annoying because of you,” Mercury reassures—and then he pauses. “Dad disliked what you said because you acted better than him while _representing_ him. You know him—blast first, be wrong never. But he called dibs on order and justice too, kid. My son believed in that once upon a time.”

At the mention of _that_ son, Jason reaches out reflexively for Jace’s hand before the other demigod can react.

“You’ll go far with that attitude,” Mercury finishes—and he stares on at Jason with approval.

Unwarranted approval. Jason rubs his forehead. “I’m…dead, sir.”

“Right. Well—” Mercury’s Apple pen becomes his caduceus, and he tips his winged hat. “—I’ll make sure you get down to the Underworld this time. Messenger God’s honor.”

Jason stares at the god before him, doubtful as Mercury winks—but he knows better than to agitate a god.

Thanatos clears his throat. “I believe misplacing the young master is grounds for a _probationary_ period, Hermes.”

“What?” Mercury blinks in surprise and clutches the tip of his winged hat in confusion. He stares down to Thanatos, who returns a look of muted disapproval. “C’mon, now—they don’t pay me enough up there! You can’t possibly be thinking of _replacing_ me, can you?”

“This will go on your performance review,” Thanatos chastises solemnly.

“How about I take him?” Jace’s voice cuts between both gods—and all eyes turn to him. The bags under his eyes have darkened the longer they stay in this office—but he stares unwittingly at both Thanatos and Mercury.

Jason stares back at the other demigod. Jace’s hands are crossed over his chest, his lips pressed lightly together. His expression feels neutral—eyes kind, despite the frustrating reality of their situation—but his shoulders don’t seem nearly as squared.

“No one anticipated Jason Grace, son of Hades, to be shadowtraveling in Jason’s world. Not even the God of Travelers?” Jace asks, his voice diplomatic.

Mercury wrinkles his nose, pride still wounded at the reminder of his mistake—but he nods. “Yes. Ha, ha. We can all agree that there might have been a _big oopsie_ somewhere down the line.”

“But I can shadowtravel now,” Jace says, briskly ignoring Mercy’s halfhearted joke at himself. “I’m not…I’m not limited to Camp Halfblood?”

“You’re free to do as you please so long as you live, young master,” Thanatos reassures. “I believe your father will give you wiggle room in death as well.”

Jason wants to shake his head tiredly, but the words are still registering in his head. Jace’s decision takes a second to process. “I…can’t ask you to do that, Jace. You should go home. Your family’s been worried sick about you.”

Jace’s eyes dart back to him with a startling strength that only comes with being a son of Hades.

“I want to do this, Jason,” he says. “You’re not the only one that’s spent the last few days hearing about how _great_ you are.”

Jason stares back at him in surprise, and the corner of Jace’s lips etch into a tiny smile.

“I listen,” Jace repeats simply. He reaches for the thermos placed in front of him and stands to his feet. Jace looks up to Hermes warily. “This will send me back to my world. From anywhere?”

“From anywhere,” Mercury repeats, and he holds his hand up. “Messenger God’s honor.”

“I’ll make sure you get where you belong, Jason,” Jace promises. He tucks the thermos in one of his pockets and reaches out once more with his hand.

Jason stares at the hand in surprise—and slowly laces their fingers together. “I…can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Thank yourself,” Jace jokes quietly—and the edges of Jason’s own lips twitch.

“First—you might want to retrieve your friends from my bag here.” Mercury plucks his purse from his hip and places it on the desk. Something rolls and twists, shooting against the cloth like a blanket over a whack-a-mole machine.

Jace frowns. “You mean they’ve been with us this entire time?”

“Somewhat. They’re in limbo right now—that thin line where one room turns into another,” Mercury says.

“Which is your _purse_ ,” Jason says, his voice striking the same disbelief as the other demigod.

Mercury hums in agreement and strokes his salt and pepper beard. “They _should_ be in a state of suspended animation. I have no idea what’s going on in there.”

“As we’ve learned, the Messenger God is prone to making mistakes,” Thanatos supplies, his voice filled with deadpan. “I’ll send the report to your father, young master. We await your safe return to your home.”

“Yes, sir,” Jace agrees.

“Make sure they don’t destroy anything important in there,” Mercury warns. He opens the flap of his satchel—

—and for the second time today, both Jason Graces get vacuumed into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you're all staying warm, it's getting pretty cold over here. Updates (in general) may be sporadic in the incoming months with my personal life getting busy. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride so far! Thank you so much for reading! Happy Early Valentien's Day!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gods. Nico wants to _die._
> 
> “Nico,” Percy starts softly—and even Thalia suddenly takes in the other daughter of Zeus, her spear finally lowering.
> 
> “Thalia?” another voice asks.
> 
> One that makes Nico’s arms fall to his side. Makes his heart suddenly hammer in his chest, throat swell, and eyes warm with tears.
> 
> He turns his head—
> 
> And both Jace and Jason meet his sight, not even ten feet away.

The satchel, shockingly, does not stink. Jason opens his eyes and is met with an abyss of nothing. He’s not sure what to expect in the Messenger God’s purse—maybe giant old receipts, or a big container of chapstick—but everything around him is empty. Electricity buzzes at the tips of Jason’s fingers—and he yelps, as the pain snaps between his cuts.

Jace grabs his hand in the dark. “I’ve gotcha.”

Jason’s eyes wander through the dark, with nothing but the blond son of Hades’s voice and hand to go off of. “Can you see through this?”

“No,” Jace admits, brazen, “but it’s best not to push yourself.”

He thumbs the edge of Jason’s fingers, as though searching for something, and red flourishes across Jason’s face. Jason lets the sparks fly out of the tips of his other fingers and catches the shadow of Jace’s face. “I’m…fine, really. This body’s hardly got any holes in it.”

His crackle of lightning isn’t as smooth as a fireball from Leo’s hand. It’s colder and sharper, blanching Jace’s already pale face. As Jason sees the little ribbons of electricity in the reflection of Jace’s eyes, he understands what Jace means about having Nico’s irises. But there’s an intense quality to his demeanor, and—

“How does that make you feel?” Jace asks. He stares in another direction and starts wandering. There’s sympathy in his voice—something Jason is familiar using with his own friends. For as little time as they’ve known each other, Jace talks to him comfortably.

“Weird, honestly.” Jason hesitates. And if he’s learned anything about being in Jace’s universe for the last few days, Jace isn’t going to let him get away without answering that question. “I…I used to consider myself lucky for being able to make it out of battle alive—”

“Until you died,” Jace interjects. It’s as blasé as his admission of not being able to see. If Praetor Nico were here, he’d probably chastise both of them—but Jason only echoes the sentiment.

“Until I died,” Jason agrees, and he follows in step with his other self. “I’ve…know battle since I was two. Your dad gave me this… _new_ body. I didn’t _like_ being on the brink of death, but no one does. That’s how you get the mission done. But… _this_ just feels like…”

“Like none of it mattered?” Jace finishes for him. It echoes off the boundless abyss, and they stop in place.

The words are _…exactly_ what Jason was going to say, but it’s weird to hear them aloud. Jason’s hand trembles in Jace’s own, and he slowly pulls it away. The deep cut at his arm hurts. The conversation with Hermes replays over his head on repeat—and each time, it only makes him feel worse.

A mistake. A _mistake._ Their swapping was a **_mistake_. **

Even when Jason tried to walk through life his own way, he’d hoped his father would be proud. Every ache and wound he earned was to protect New Rome—and then his friends and newfound family. He suffered through the injuries, but Jason would proudly take them again if the rest of his friends were okay.

And in one… ** _mishap_** , those scars were taken away from him. It’s not that Jason _needs_ them, but he’s already been stripped of other things. His title, as Juno’s champion. If Jupiter didn’t care for him in his own world, Jason is sure he’d get less in Jace’s. Every scar was a battle won—proof, he was strong enough to protect his friends in the next fight—but they mean nothing.

“It’s like you read my mind,” Jason says quietly.

Jace reaches up and squeezes his shoulder. “I get it, Jason. I’ve been there.”

Jason’s chest aches. He remembers what Thalia—daughter of _Pluto_ Thalia—said about her brother. Jace is different in his lineage—but the _Grace_ side of their family was very much the same. They were destined to be separated from their sisters, and their mothers would never know them past the age of two. “Did you like living in Camp Halfblood?”

Jace’s grip suddenly grows stiff at his shoulder. He hesitates—but he keeps Jason’s eye.

“There were good parts,” Jace admits. He grazes his collarbone, where his neck is bare of the camp beads that tethered him to the Greek camp. “But I—”

“Couldn’t leave fast enough,” Jason finishes for him. They stare at each other meaningfully, neither blinking—and Jason wonders how many of their thoughts fall in line as much as they deviate.

“It’s like you read my mind,” Jace echoes, and the edge of his lips lift into a sad smile. He’s a serious figure with his wide frame and calm demeanor—but his eyes give him away. Kind. He wonders if Jace is thinking the same of him—or if it’s something else entirely.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Jason asks. “Thalia and Nico have been worried sick about you. They tried to hide it from me, but—I don’t want to keep you away from them.”

He’s lost count of the number of ways that he’s envious of Jace’s life. The fact that Jace gets to wake up every morning with his big sister so close, after so many years estranged—or how proud Hades is to hear Jace’s name alone.

Jace shrugs. “Nico probably won’t be happy about it.”

_Nico_ is just a different weight on Jason’s heart entirely. The edge of his lips twitch—equal parts sad and yearning. “He…really thinks the world of you.”

They stop. He watches as Jace’s shoulders fall—and Jason can _see_ the tightness of Jace’s chest. That desire to just go home and find reprieve after this ordeal.

It’s…too familiar to himself.

“Look,” Jason says, “we don’t need to do this. Letus basically promised me a one-way ticket back to Elysium, and it looks like this swap has been _hell_ on you—”

“I know why you want to stay down there, Jason,” Jace interjects. He glances back to Jason—and though the exhaustion is evident in his eyes, his lips mirror the smile against Jason’s own lips. It’s…sad, and mournful. Jason understands those feelings are specifically meant for him. “You think you’re going to find peace if you stay dead.”

Jason’s throat dries because of it. His hands twitch at his side, stunned. 

Jace lowers his head in every way that reminds Jason of Praetor Nico di Angelo, but he doesn’t seem surprised. “I…spent the first day with your friends just recounting your death. Each time it got _worse_ because everyone just got angrier that they couldn’t do something to help.”

He stares at Jason expectantly, and Jason feels his cheeks flush with heat.

“I,” Jace continues, “had no idea who your dad was until dinner time. I had to ask. Everyone talked about how _brave_ you were, and how _selfless_ you were for protecting Piper—and how you’ve _always_ been selfless and putting others before yourself. Anytime they had a question, it was easy to reason my way to the answer. It just sounded like everything that _I_ could do. What I _would_ do. Your universe—”

Jace grimaces.

“—it wasn’t the best headspace for me,” he admits. “I…don’t fight anymore, but it was like everyone was telling me where I was going to end up if I kept doing what was expected of me. Being brave for other people. Being selfless for other people. Dying, for other people. I could see how you got into that headspace.”

He looks back up.

“Dying,” Jace says, “so I wouldn’t have to _do_ that anymore.”

Jason blinks at those words.

“I’ve been there too,” Jace finishes, his voice soft.

“I,” Jason starts. He tries to smile and laugh it off as a joke—but his lips struggle to move in a fashion that he wants. “You make it sound like I _resented_ my friends.”

Jace’s expression is solemn, his lips pressed into a gentle line. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Not your friends. Just…the _circumstance_ of your upbringing.”

He waits for Jason to protest—and doesn’t seem surprised when Jason can’t conjure a single word. Praetor Nico had pressed and badgered until Jason could form an answer—but Jace has them ready.

“I’m not the best with my words,” Jace says, almost ironically. HIs cheeks flourish a pink that matches Jason’s own, and his modesty is hard to believe. “I…spent long enough doing what was expected of me that I forgot I could use them. Sometimes I still forget.”

He rubs his forehead in a manner that Jason’s done plenty.

“We’ve been through a lot since we were handed off from Mom,” he continues, “Your friends—they’re…they’re not perfect. They have flaws. But they were _all_ crushed that you died. That you felt like you couldn’t share anything with them. They _want_ you to be happy, and help you get there. You don’t have to _die_ to feel at peace. You can stop fighting.”

Jason stars at Jace, still unsure of what to say. His arm suddenly aches, and he reaches to rub it. “I…don’t get how you were able to do that so easily.”

“I didn’t,” Jace says almost immediately—and his laugh is brittle and tired at himself. “I…I slipped in and out of that mindset for months. I mean—I was only at your camp for three days, and I fell back into that so _easily_ —”

He halts, and Jason gives into the urge to reach for Jace’s hand in the dark. He illuminates them once more, but the bags only seem darker between Jace’s eyes. Jace pauses, a soft breath at his lips, and raises his gaze to look at Jason.

“It’s a battle every day,” Jace concludes, and he curls his hand around Jason’s own. “But I do it for me. It’s my choice. And you’re allowed to make that decision for yourself, Jason. You _don’t_ have to keep fighting for other people. ”

He stares at Jason tightly, and his eyebrows slowly press together.

“But if you truly think you’ll be happier in Elysium, Jason, I’ll take you there,” Jace promises. “I just don’t want you to do it because you think you have to.”

A lump swells in Jason’s throat. For all that Jace is urging him to use his voice, Jason can’t find it. His eyes feel warm.

_CRAAAAACK_

A ribbon of lightning off in the distance steals away Jason’s chance to answer.

*

So far, Nico’s seen this doppelganger situation work one of two ways. There’s Percy and Roman Percy—who, by nature, are just friendly people. They get along swimmingly, despite the evidence of confusion and caution in their voices as they speak. As far as the Other Nico goes, Nico is _trying_ to get along with him. He sees too much of himself—old and new—that makes it hard. Too many of his own flaws and too many things that make him envious. 

There’s no telling how the Thalias would go. Thalia is _brash_ and _hardheaded_ in a way that even Percy finds frustrating at times. After the emotional strain of her argument with Jace—doubled up with Hera, Nico doubts she’s in a good mood. While Jason’s always been a calm presence, Thalia’s temper crackles like lightning.

_Two_ Thalia’s in one room—or wherever they are—sounds like a nightmare. The flashlights flicker like a strobe light as they run—but the rivets of lightning are hard to miss.

They find Reyna, prepared as ever with her portable lantern. Even in the darkness, her silver parka seems to shine. Nico’s stomach twists in knots because of it. Her face stretches into a scowl beneath the glow of the light, and every once in a while, there’s a crack of lightning stifled by a tendril of darkness. Then, a—

_“Fuck you_ ,” by one Thalia.

Followed by a, “ _Fuck off!_ ” from another.

“Stop fighting!” Reyna hisses.

“ _THALIA!”_ shouts the short-haired Praetor Reyna. She stops short of her counterpart—and while the Huntress Reyna startles at her presence, Praetor Reyna’s eyes are fixated on the mess. “What are you doing?!”

There’s a pause in all of the chaos—enough for Nico to make out the two Grace sisters. One Thalia, daughter of Zeus, stands with her shield and spear drawn at her side.

Another Thalia—Jace’s Thalia—stands in the shadows, with Reyna’s lantern rippling in her rage. She stands on the offensive, a spear of her own drawn—but it’s floating in a way Nico’s only seen with his own sister and precious metals.

“Dealing with trash,” Jace’s Thalia snaps. She steps forward, emanating with an all-consuming rage that makes goosebumps rise on Nico’s arms. It’s an echo of Jace’s own sorrow not too long ago—but he’s felt it in his own heart before—from Cupid, from Bryce Lawrence, and from every miserable moment in his life since the day Bianca died. Jace’s Thalia shows it now for her brother alone.

Nico may not like Thalia, but he knows she’s too proud to back down from a fight.

Thalia stands firm, her spear crackling between her fingers. The electricity bristles from the length of her staff, and she jabs it at Jace’s Thalia. “You want to try that again?”

“What started this?” the Other Nico asks—and he startles Nico as he places himself beside the short-haired Reyna.

Jace’s Thalia laughs—crackling in a cadence so similar to the Thalia Nico actually knows that it’s eerie. “How do you _seriously_ have the nerve to stand there and defend yourself for being such a shitty sister?”

“Does that answer your question?” Nico asks the Other Nico wryly.

Thalia is irked. She tightens her grip on her spear and her jaw clenches. “I don’t know what you _think_ you know, but I’m not letting you put words in my mouth! You don’t get to _define_ me and Jason!”

“You mean how Mom left him abandoned in a forest when he was two? How you turned your back and he was stolen away by the Legion?” Jace’s Thalia bares her teeth, and Nico’s own pulse just hammers against his chest. “How you left him for the Huntresses and didn’t come back?”

Thalia winces with every word—but for the first time, Nico can see tears in her eyes. “I thought he was dead!”

“ _So did I_ ,” Jace’s Thalia snaps, and her voice is raw. “You were really okay leaving him again? Letting him die?”

Thalia jabs the arrowhead of her spear at her counterpart once more, only a hairline away. “You don’t know _what_ I felt when he died. _Don’t_ fucking put words in my mouth!”

“I don’t have to,” Jace’s Thalia retorts. “One of us actually took the time to _listen_ to your little brother.”

“Shut _up_!” Thalia shrieks and lunges.

“Hey now—” Percy shouts, evidently deciding it’s their turn to intervene. Percy whips out Riptide and wields it against Thalia’s sword. Roman Percy picks Jace’s Thalia off the ground.

“ _Move it_ , Seaweed Brain!” Thalia hisses.

“Kelp Head, I will _slice_ your dick off,” Jace’s Thalia warns—to which both Percys pause.

“Dude,” Percy says, and his voice cracks, offended. “Kelp Head?”

“ _Seaweed Brain_?” Roman Percy wrinkles his nose. He turns to face Percy and Thalia, and “—aw—you’re tiny, too.”

In the moment of disruption, it’s finally easy to see the differences between both Thalias. The one in Roman Percy’s grip is taller and more filled out with age, her eyes darker than their surroundings. Lieutenant Grace, Daughter of Zeus, isn’t a day over fifteen, with a smaller frame and silver parka where her counterpart wears a spiked leather jacket.

Other Nico exhales a sigh of exasperation, palm to the face.

Thalia breaks out of her anger for a brief second—and then she shrieks again, aggravated. “I _will_ bite you.”

“How about not doing anything?” Nico snaps—and he shines his flashlight in both Thalias’ faces, who flinch. He turns his attention to his world’s Thalia, his jaw clenched. “You _just_ had this fight with Jace. Is this such a good idea?”

“ _You_ had a fight with Jace?” Other Nico asks—and he shines his flashlight at Thalia, too. “What on _Gaea_ did you say to him?”

To Nico’s surprise, Jace’s Thalia looks at him. Her eyes widen, and she gestures wildly in Nico’s direction while trying to wriggle out of Roman Percy’s grip. “And what’s wrong with _him_?”

Nico’s face flushes with heat. The anger and frustration are innate, and he grips his flashlight tightly. “What do you mean what’s wrong with _me_?”

“You should have been taking care of him!” Jace’s Thalia accuses, and her voice is filled with a multitude of frustration. “Jason _died_ and Bianca _died_ —and you couldn’t think about someone else other than yourself for _two seconds_? What, did you abandon him, too?”

Nico’s stricken by just how hurt her voice sounds—just like he has been with every stroke of Roman Percy’s kindness.

“Thalia,” Other Nico starts—and based on the tone of his voice, there’s more to _that_ story.

“Wait—no—” Percy whirls around immediately, his demeanor faltering in a way that’s still too _weird_ for Nico. “Bianca was _my_ fault. I’m the one who promised to take care of Nico.”

Roman Thalia looks like she wants to strangle him as much as Roman Percy.

“So—why didn’t you, man?” Roman Percy interjects. With the lull in the Thalias’ fight, he puts her back on the ground and turns back to a bewildered Percy. “What kind of an asshole just lets a ten-year-old kid _run away_ after his big sister dies?”

“It’s not like that,” Nico snaps, and his hands curl into fists. “Percy _looked_ for me. And that promise was _stupid_ , I was a _kid._ We’ve talked about this already.”

“Yeah,” Roman Percy retorts—and despite the ease he speaks with Nico, he’s evidently not afraid to protest, either. He gestures to both Percy and Thalia. “But he didn’t _stay._ Neither of you did.”

“No, we didn’t,” Percy says—and he’s more agreeable than Thalia, his demeanor twisting into a grimace that makes Nico’s gut wrench. “But—we talked about this. Nico and I are friends now—”

“ _Now_?” Roman Percy stretches, perplexed.

Percy squares his jaw, his grip tight around Riptide. He locks eyes with Nico, an intensity there that make Nico’s skin crawl. “I’m not abandoning him again.”

_“Stop making stupid promises_ ,” Nico snaps—which makes both Percys wince. He trudges forward, whipping his flashlight between both Son of Neptune and Poseidon, and scowls. “I’m not _ten_ anymore! I don’t _need_ anyone to treat me like I’m _broken_!”

Roman Percy still looks unconvinced, his eyes wily with a concern to Nico that’s still foreign. Even more so now, because it’s a worry built on a relationship Nico will _never_ have with this Percy and he doesn’t want it. His own Percy stares at him with a different worry—built from their own trysts, and Nico doesn’t hate it any less.

“But—” One starts.

“—Nico—” The other interjects.

“No,” the Other Nico cuts in—and he yanks Roman Percy by the scruff of his shirt. “Stop big brothering. This seriously isn’t the time for it. This isn’t about Nico, or me. This is about _Jason_. It’s _always_ been about Jason and getting him home. _Got it_?”

Neither Percys look convinced. Neither do the Thalias. There’s too much anger and frustration passed between all of them—over a topic even more sore than Jason’s death, and that just makes Nico burn more.

It’s just— _too much._

Including Bianca, who just _stares_ at him with those azure blue eyes, trying to take him in.

“I don’t understand,” she says, her voice a familiar melody that just makes Nico want to puke. She’s an _echo_ of Nico’s own sibling, in the shape of her face, in the pitch of her voice, and even just how she stands from afar. “Why would I leave you?”

_Gods_. Nico wants to _die._

“Nico,” Percy starts softly—and even Thalia suddenly takes in the other daughter of Zeus, her spear finally lowering.

“Thalia?” another voice asks.

One that makes Nico’s arms fall to his side. Makes his heart suddenly hammer in his chest, throat swell, and eyes warm with tears.

He turns his head—

And both Jace and Jason meet his sight, not even ten feet away.

*

No one moves.

For all of the time that Jason’s spent in Jace’s universe, he’s suddenly speechless. Jason struggles to move. He sees Percy, dressed in a Camp Halfblood hoodie and overcoat for the New York winter. He sees Reyna—in a silver parka that confuses him more than anything—but she stares back at him as one of his oldest friends.

He sees Thalia, and Nico.

Who both stare back at him, stunned. There are tears in his sister’s eyes, but Jason’s not sure what to do to make them go away. And…Nico. Jason’s too busy taking in that Nico is _here_.

They blur in front of him, heat radiating in Jason’s cheeks, and it takes him a moment to realize there are tears in his eyes, too.

“Jason,” someone says— _breathes_ , and the way it’s said pours over in his chest.

Thalia. Roman Thalia.

“Thalia,” Jace says beside him—his voice so small that Jason could believe he’s lost in the forest again. He trudges forward as she _runs_ , and the Underworld Grace siblings _crush_ each other in a tight embrace. Jace holds his sister so close that she rolls off the balls of her feet.

There’s a soft sob shared between them. Jason can’t tell who—maybe both of them—but he hears the words. The _thank fucking gods you’re alive_ and the _I know, I’m sorry, I know._ Despite the _cold_ and _darkness_ associated with their father’s realm, there’s nothing but love shared between them.

Jace raises his head, both cheeks flushed and eyes red above his sister’s head—and Praetor Nico is already marching towards them. He lights up at the sight of his boyfriend, like daybreak after an endless night, and holds out his other arm. “Nico—”

Praetor Nico grabs Jace by the face.

“—wuh?” Jace stares, as startled as Jason was.

Roman Thalia laughs brashly as she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. Praetor Nico persists, turning Jace’s face left-to-right as he floats to eye-level. His demeanor hardens, eyebrows furrowing together. He thumbs Jace’s mouth.

“Um, Nico?” Jason asks. “I… _promise_ that this is—”

“Same scar,” Praetor Nico whispers—and his face softens. “Same eyes. My Jace.”

Beneath his grip, Jace’s smile lifts, the happiness swelling in his eyes. He pulls Praetor Nico close, impatient this time, and envelopes him in a hug.

“My Nico,” he whispers back, with the tiniest tremor in his voice. Praetor Nico folds under his grip with a soft sniffle.

Jason courteously looks away—but not in time to miss Jace kissing Praetor Nico on the forehead. There’s a whisper between them. A, _“No handshake this time?_ ” that leads to Praetor Nico grumbling under his breath.

It’s bizarre. Jason can’t help but smile for the happy couple and watch Roman Thalia’s eyes light up at the sight of her brother. Even if his heart aches.

The aches continue, as he looks afar. His friends—his _own_ friends look at him, dumbfounded. Jason tries to take them in—Reyna, Percy, Nico, Thalia. Nico, and Thalia. Thalia.

He stares at his sister, who he hasn’t seen since boarding the Argo II. Since they parted ways on their own path once again, because the Huntresses were her new family.

Not that the two of them were ever really a family. Not like Jace and Roman Thalia were. Are.

The words don’t really hurt as he thinks them—they’re a truth that he’s always known and accepted because there was no other option. But he stares at his sister now, who’s far more immobile than this other Thalia was.

“Thalia,” Jason says, when he finally finds his voice. He takes a fearful step—worried she’ll turn away the closer he gets.

But she’s there. Thalia stares back at him, raising her gaze as she hears her name. She’s as dumbfounded that _he’s_ there. That they’re in the same room and—together, again.

Reyna and Percy push her forward, and Jason can see her eyes are glassy, too.

The happy couple behind Jason is quiet now. Roman Thalia is silent, but the air is cold.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jason admits softly—but his voice is brittle.

Thalia’s eyebrows furrow. She sniffles, her hands trembling at her side, and the tears just fall. Slowly, she ducks her head, and Thalia looks _small_. Nothing like the lieutenant that Jason met, but a kid. Just a kid, who had to decide the fate of her world or her own fate.

Jason _knew_ that. But he knows how he’s feeling isn’t…wrong, either.

“I think that says more about me than you,” she whispers softly, her voice hoarse.

She doesn’t run toward him, like Roman Thalia did for Jace. Not like she did when they first reunited at Pike’s Peak. Instead, Thalia looks frozen, her posture tight. Her expression is dark—grim, and mournful.

It’s then, that Jason wonders if this is how Thalia looked when he died.

Jason takes a step forward, but Thalia doesn’t move. He watches as Reyna grabs Thalia by the shoulder, whispering something in her ear. Still, Thalia doesn’t blink.

“Reyna,” Jason starts—and the way Reyna pauses, he knows that she’s stunned, too.

“Hi, Jason,” she greets softly, her voice just as tense. It’s almost foreign to Jason despite their history together. Where Jace had Beth and Jason had Reyna. But she stares at him, unfamiliar in his eyes beneath the silver parka and the quiver. There’s no purple cloak as Jason remembers her—the one that always looked more fitting over her shoulders than his own.

“You joined the Huntresses,” Jason whispers back.

For some reason, that word is taboo. He watches his long-time co-leader grimace, her eyes falling to Nico—and his gaze follows, too.

Nico actually _flinches_ under his gaze. Jason’s heart aches at the sight of it.

“Dude,” Percy says, finally breaking through the uncomfortable silence. But he stares at Jason, eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes swell with tears. Percy’s own voice cracks. “You’re alive.”

He raises a hand over his mouth—and it never occurred to Jason just how much his friends must’ve cried over his death.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. He takes the encouragement to move forward. And again, no one moves. They’re stunned. Shocked, by his death.

“You,” Jason starts, “guys look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The joke doesn’t land well. There’s a lump at the back of Jason’s throat, and his voice feels as weak as Jace’s when they saw their sisters. Except…Jace’s sister ran close. Jace’s Nico ran close. Jace’s friends stand afar—but close enough to relish in the sight of the blond son of Hades.

Jason’s friends stare at him, mystified and terrified of him all the same. His heart aches where there should be a hole. Where they _expect_ a hole. Jason’s _breathing_ , but right now, he suffocates in the deafness of their silence.

And—all of Jace’s friends just stare at him with the pity that unnerves him.

“Jason,” Jace suddenly says. He places a hand on Jason again, tethering Jason to the reality of the situation. There’s empathy in his eyes, while Praetor Nico and Roman Thalia stare from afar, clearly surprised to be separated once again. “Looks like we all found each other. We should get out of Hermes’s satchel.”

“ _Hermes_?” Praetor Nico suddenly asks—and the mention of the divine god seems to move things forward. His expression darkens, and he shines his flashlight at Jace. “How did we end up in Hermes’s _purse_?”

Jace’s lips contort into a grimace. “There…was a mishap.”

“ _Clearly_ ,” Praetor Nico snaps, despite the sweet moment earlier. His voice drips with ire, and he gestures between the two of them. There’s a worry there that was muted around Jason. It shows now with an unabashed ferocity.

“I—” Jason halts, his voice gravelly. Praetor Nico looks to him, tight-lipped, and Jason can tell the other demigod pities him, too. “I was supposed to make it to the Underworld back in February. Hermes lost track of me because it was near Valentine’s Day.”

“Wait—” Percy interjects. In a moment of frustration, he forgets his own sorrow. “You’re telling us the reason you never made it to the Underworld was because Hermes thought a box of chocolates was more important than you?”

Only Percy would be able to find a way to make the mistake sound worse.

Jason looks for Thalia’s reaction, and sees her gaze red and glossy. There’s a wrinkle between her brow that takes Jason’s ability to speak. Tears in her eyes, that makes him forget why they were down here. But again, she says nothing.

“Something happened this summer,” Jason continues slowly. “I…guess when the gods noticed I went missing, it coincided with Jace going down to the Underworld to see his dad. Mercury and Hermes both made a mistake.”

“But you’re alive,” Nico argues suddenly—and his voice shakes as he looks at Jason.

Looking at Nico’s sorrow feels like a fist to the gut. His eyes are glossy, hands trembling at his side. There’s a sense of… _something_ over his expression, that makes Jason’s throat dry.

Nico looks onward, clearly at a loss. “You have a _body_ , Jason. I—I can hear your _heartbeat_ from here.”

Jason nods because his friends seem too fearful to interact with him.

“Their Pluto saw me down there and rejected the paperwork,” he explains softly. “He thought I was his son, Nico. This whole thing is a mistake. I—I’m a mistake.”

He can’t keep the steadiness in his own voice.

He’s just another demigod lost in the folds of battle. Jason’s one of many that fell during Apollo’s Trials—just like the demigods who lost their lives against Gaea, or the ones who died on Mount Tam when he slayed Krios. He was lucky enough to get lost, like he was lucky enough to be born under both the King and Queen of the Heavens. No quest brought him here, just—just coincidence.

“Why—” But for some reason, Nico’s angry. _“—would you say that about yourself?”_

Jason looks back up, and the rage across Nico’s face is unmistakable. Nico trudges forward now, out of his place between Reyna and Percy—and the frustration keeps Jason distracted from the fact they’re in the same _room_ again.

“Why would you _ever_ say that about yourself?” Nico repeats. He bares his teeth, his hands shaking at his sides.

“I—” Jason sputters. He’s not sure what to do, while Nico looks straight at him, fuming. “We’re getting this fixed, Nico. I’m going down to the Underworld for real this time. Jace is going to make sure I make it down there.”

“I’m sorry—” Praetor Nico suddenly interjects. “ _—Jace_ and you?”

His face stretches into a scowl—just as angry as Nico for a completely different reason.

Jace looks like Jason feels—uncomfortable, but at a loss. Slowly, he pulls the thermos from his pocket. “Hermes is under probation right now. I told Thanatos I wanted to see Jason home.”

Praetor Nico looks infuriated. “I just found out you had a _panic attack_ in that world, and you’re telling me you want to go _back_?”

“I—” Jace struggles, his voice soft. “Nico, it’s important.”

“ _You’re_ important,” Praetor Nico argues stubbornly.

“He’s right,” Nico fumes—and his eyes rim with red. His hands are coiled into fists, and he looks at Jason now—reminiscent to Praetor Nico beneath the Temple to Juno. “You’re important, Jason. Your _death_ was a mistake—and you’re telling me you got a _body_ and the first thing you want to do is _die_?” 

“Nico,” Jason refutes—but then his voice is gentle, too. He thinks he knows how Jace feels, because the tenor of his voice echoes how _hard_ it is to put up an argument with Nico. Not when Nico is staring at him, heartwrenched. “I’m not the only one who died for Apollo. If I came back to life, then everyone else who died deserves the same second chance, too. It’s—it’s not fair—”

“Of course it’s not fair!” Nico bites—and the tears fall from his eyes now. Jason’s confused at the image of it—of another Nico, who clearly struggled with his death. One who’s _fuming_ in anger at the circumstance—and at Jason, too. “I don’t _care_ that it’s not fair, Jason—why can’t you put yourself first for once?”

“I…” Jason looks at Nico, speechless. His eyes fall to Praetor Nico, who still looks frustrated at his boyfriend’s decision—but doesn’t jump to his defense. _They’ve_ had this conversation, and Praetor Nico wasn’t happy about how it ended, either.

“ _Why_ ,” Nico demands, his voice heavy, “do you want to _die_ so badly, Jason?”

“Because sooner or later I’m going to have to, Nico!” Jason blurts out—and Nico’s eyes widen. The words are strained at the back of Jason’s throat, but it’s the words that have been burned in him since he was a child. “Nico, I’m not _like_ you—I—it was always going to _be_ like this. It’s the only thing the gods _expect_ from me.”

“Like _me_?” Nico snaps back—and this time he jabs a finger in Jason’s chest, a brittle laugh vibrating at the back of his throat. “You’re the one who _told_ me to come out of the shadows, and you can’t even realize how important _you_ are? To _me?_ Did you even _think_ about how everyone else would feel about your death, Jason?”

Jason’s ears burn with red. He’s _had_ this conversation with Praetor Nico. With _Apollo_ —but it’s different now, with his friends in front of him. The ones who mourned him and couldn’t even laugh when he tried to make a joke out of his own death. But despite every other instance, his voice now feels small. “Nico, someone had to die.”

“Jason—” Percy cuts in. This time, he doesn’t keep a hand over his mouth. Instead, he looks at Jason, abhorred, and he steps forward. “Nico’s right. I get why you said yes to Apollo, but you don’t have to go down there. You _deserve_ to have a life, man.”

“It doesn’t have to _be_ like anything you don’t want it to be, Jason,” Reyna adds on. Her gaze narrows, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “We’ve fought together as centurions and praetors—but we were friends first. The _Gods_ didn’t make me fly to Croatia for you.”

Jason looks between all of them—at Percy’s stubbornness, and Reyna’s insistence. He looks at the quiet fury in Nico’s face—and to everyone else from Jace’s world, who seemed to mute their own pity and worry for him. Beth looks heartbroken at the turn of events. Roman Thalia is somber—but mutes herself, like she did with at the Temple Hill.

He looks to his own sister, who still hasn’t uttered a word. She’s still frozen—numb to his presence, and Jason realizes just how much it aches in his chest. Too much.

“Thalia?” he asks softly.

She looks back up to him, with the electric blue eyes that match his own—and seems to crumble. “Do you know how much it kills me to hear you want to die a _third_ time, baby brother?”

There’s another similarity between them, as Jason’s eyes swell with a warmth. His hands twitch at his side.

“I…didn’t even know you knew I died,” he confesses, his voice cracks.

“I _lost_ it when you died, Jason,” Thalia says, and her voice carries the same tremor that was in Roman Thalia’s voice. “It nearly killed me the first time. Reyna joined the Huntresses so it _wouldn’t_ kill me a second time. I—”

Thalia closes her eyes, simmering in her own anger. And begrudgingly, she opens them. Her eyes dart over to Jace, then to her counterpart.

“—I didn’t want to stay and say goodbye to Jace, because I’ve already lost you too many times,” she whispers. “I’m a _shitty sister_ , Jason. I wasn’t there to protect you. Not from Mom and Juno, not from Caligula. They’re—they’re _all right._ You shouldn’t have _died_. I shouldn’t have been off with the Huntresses after finding you.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. “I never held it against you for being with the Huntresses.”

“But you were my brother first,” Thalia protests sharply. She glares, but the ferocity of it is at something past Jason.

“And you thought I was dead _,”_ Jason protests.

“And then I wasn’t there when you _actually_ died!” Thalia slams a palm to her chest, and her voice echoes through the satchel like thunder. “If me being with the Huntresses is _any_ part of the reason why you’re okay with dying _again_ , then I’ll _quit_.”

Jason’s eyes sting. He looks to his sister, at a loss for words as she writhes in her own fury. He looks to Percy, and Reyna, who urge him from the two aspects of himself—Greek, and Roman.

And he looks at Nico, who was _infuriated_ on his behalf, _fuming_ with the tears at the edges of his eyes.

Then he looks to Jace and Praetor Nico—who don’t refute any of his friend’s claims. They _look_ at him with the same pity and grief he’s been given over the last few days, and it just makes Jason’s heart ache.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Jason says weakly.

Thalia is quick. She shakes her head vehemently. “You’re not asking me to do _anything_. I joined the Huntresses because I thought I _lost_ everything, Jason. I thought you were _gone._ But if you’re standing here, ready to die again because you think it’s the right thing to do, then I’m going to tell you that you’re _wrong_ , every step of the way.”

“C’mon, dude,” Percy begs, and his voice is pleading. He grabs Jason by the arm—and there’s a brief second where he’s registering that they’re touching. HIs eyes fall to a divot in Jason’s arm, and he’s trying hard to keep his voice steady. “You were dealt a shitty hand. You’ve done _so much_ for our world. Who _cares_ if it’s a mistake? Make it an _opportunity.”_

“Someone asked for me down there,” Jason protests—and he shakes his head. “Hades—he knows I’m missing. I’m…not Leo, or Hazel. I can’t cheat death this way. He knows I’m supposed to be dead.”

They stare at him, frustrated.

“Jason,” Percy starts again—

“Dad knows you’re dead,” Nico starts, “because I spent this past summer trying to find you.”

Jason’s head snaps back to the son of Hades, who stares at him, eyes burning with tears. He stares at Jason in the same way Praetor Nico did before they reconciled—just full of concern and frustration. Jason hates it.

“I went down to Tartarus, Jason,” Nico says.

Immediately, Percy and Reyna’s heads snap back to Nico. Thalia is slow to follow—along with Praetor Nico, who stares at his counterpart in shock. Jace’s expression is grim—and Jason doesn’t understand why.

Percy starts first. “Nico—”

“I went down there to save Bob,” Nico continues—and his voice is firm. “I _stayed_ , because I thought you were down there. Because I heard your voice, and I was _angry_ because I thought that some deity just threw you in the pits of hell for _no reason._ ”

“You’re…” Jason’s voice is faint. He stares at Nico, speechless—but he’s not the only one. “Why—?”

“Because you’re important to me,” Nico says, and his voice cracks. “More than _Will_ , and more than _Percy._ And it was _stupid._ But we’re _here_ because you’re _important_ , Jason. No one wants you to die. Especially because you think you _have_ to.”

“The only thing you need to do is be yourself, man,” Percy points out. “Look—I wasn’t even sure if I was going to make it past twelve, let alone sixteen. Now I’m eighteen and actually figuring life out. You deserve that chance, too. You’ve already done the hero thing, so be a _kid_ for once.”

Jason stares between all of them, at a loss of words.

“You’ve already done the hero thing,” Thalia reiterates, and her voice is soft. Jason’s never heard this tone from his sister before. “So _please_ , just be my little brother. We haven’t gotten to _do_ that yet.”

“You’re enough, Jason,” Nico urges—and to Jason’s surprise, he reaches out, padding the inside of his forearm. Nico halts in his gesture, eyes squeezing shut with a soft, miserable shudder, and he looks back up, unwavering. “Please—you need to understand that you’re—you’re _enough._ ” 

He's begging. They’re _all_ begging him. Jason takes in all of their words, his face flushed with heat. For all of the words they throw at him, he can’t find his own.

But he looks at how Thalia stares at him—only him. She’s here for more than a streak of lightning in the sky, and stares at him like his answer holds her next breath. Percy is loyal in his words and in their friendship, standing beside Reyna with the same persistence.

And Nico is waiting, too, with his hand against Jason’s pulse. His gaze is unrelinquishing.

Jason opens his mouth to speak.

“ _Time’s up_ ,” a voice suddenly calls. _“I’ve got more deliveries to make._ ”

A fissure opens in the sky above them. Light bursts through the crack, and a giant godly eyeball stares at them from the other side.

_“Oh good! You found each other!_ ” Giant Hermes’s voice echoes through the bag and causes the flesh on Jason’s bones to vibrate.

Then—the Messenger God tosses them out of his bag.

*

First, Nico is blinded by office lights. Then—he and the rest of their crew are suddenly falling out of the sky like half-used chapstick and old crumpled receipts. He curses loudly at the sky—and a blast of wind _slaps_ him in the face as Jason, the Other Nico, and Bianca try to slow their descent.

There’s a disoriented shout as Nico registers the ground beneath him—

“Gotcha.” –and then Jason yanks Nico close before they make impact with the ground. Nico chokes on a breath, _clinging_ onto Jason as the adrenaline slaps him in the face.

They halt in their descent, only a few inches off the ground. Nico once again finds himself in _a_ Jason’s embrace, with Jason’s heartbeat firm and loud in his ears. He _feels_ Jason’s soul in front of him, coveting around him, and practically suffocates in its pulse.

Jason is _alive_. His breath is _steady_ , and body is _warm_. His grip is tight and unyielding.

When Nico looks up, all he sees is the hue of Jason’s eyes, outmatching every color of the sky. Jason stares at Nico with the utmost worry, blond eyebrows furrowed together.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

And Nico stares, the back of his throat dry. Because he _knows_ that none of that worry is for Jason himself.

“Jason?” he hears his own voice. But not from his own mouth. Both Nico and Jason turn and watch as the Other Nico looks around the forested area, panicked. “Jason, where—”

“Here,” Jace cuts him off. From feet away, he stands with the Roman Thalia and Bianca—and he smiles wearily at his boyfriend.

The Other Nico’s hands coil into fists. Then he trudges towards his boyfriend and he knocks a hand to Jace’s chest. “ _Stop scaring me like that_.”

The beads around his wrist rattle on impact.

“Sorry,” Jace breathes—and despite everything, his smile only widens. He brushes a hand across his chest, the edges of his fingers grazing his clavicle where those beads once lay, and Nico’s chest twists in knots. A symbol of commitment.

On the other hand, Jason lets go of him.

“Sorry,” Jason whispers. “No touching.”

Again, Nico’s heart aches. He takes in his Jason—the one dressed in head-to-toe in clothes unfamiliar to him. No Camp Jupiter or Halfblood shirt. Jason is indistinguishable to _that_ version of himself. The one that Nico knows well. This one looks… _different_ , in his black pants and white shirt.

This one looks at their counterparts with yearning, as Roman Thalia suddenly throws her arms around her brother. As the Roman Percy, Beth, and Praetor Reyna convene with their small group, with nothing but relief passed through them.

“ _Jason_ ,” a voice breathes—and suddenly, Thalia tackles her brother in a hug.

Jason is startled. It’s the first since their reunion—and despite Thalia’s vibrant ferocity, she looks feeble in her little brother’s arms. Her sobs are loud, vibrating against Jason—and he stares at her, speechless.

Percy finds them next. “Nico—”

“—are you okay?’ Reyna finishes—and they both shrink to Nico’s side.

Nico stares at them, confused—but Percy’s face fills with worry. Despite Nico’s earlier dismissal, Reyna looks stern now as she stares at him—with nothing else mattering around them. Nico swallows the lump in his throat.

As he turns, he sees Thalia’s head buried in her brother’s shoulder, trembling. Jason’s eyebrows are furrowed as he hugs her back—and there’s a frown on his face. Remorseful.

“I’m fine,” Nico says finally. He’s not sure if he believes himself. At the sound of his voice, Jason’s gaze darts to him—but neither of them can say a word.

For… _everything_ they’ve shared, Jason can’t muster a response. All they hear is a tired Thalia in her brother’s arms. For a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says, and his voice is uneven. He doesn’t say what for.

Thalia’s voice gradually mutes—and Jason just stares at her, obstinate. Nico’s eyes sting again.

“How’d we end up here?” a voice suddenly pipes up. Roman Percy’s. He grimaces as they all look to him—Jason and Nico included—but then he gestures to the forest around them. “Wherever _here_ is, I mean.”

“Camp Halfblood,” Jace supplies. He inspects their surroundings—and both Nico and he exchange quiet looks. Jace fishes the thermos out of his pocket again, and a look of relief overcomes his face. “Jason’s Camp Halfblood. Hermes dropped us here since I promised to take Jason down to the Underworld.”

Jason detaches from his sister. He looks to his counterpart, his lips pressed into a straight line that makes Nico’s stomach rot.

“One last quest,” he whispers softly.

A coldness rushes over Nico, and his heart _burns_. He stares back at Jason, defeated. They all do.

Thalia hangs her head, unwilling to let anyone see her tears. She falls to Reyna’s side, and the daughter of Bellona is quick to console her. 

_“Jason_ ,” the Other Nico chides, his voice filled with ire as he looks at his boyfriend. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s not really a quest,” Jace dismisses. He’s reluctant—but then he presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. He looks back to their party—at Nico, first, with somber eyes, then to Jason. “Quests require fighting. I’m not one to do that anymore, and you’re—well, dead.”

He makes a face. Jason’s lips stretch into a weak smile.

Roman Thalia raises an arm and places it around her brother’s shoulder. But—slowly, she turns to Jason.

“You asked me to bring you down there,” she says. “The offer still stands, baby brother. We’ll wait there until the boat parts.”

“No,” Nico hears himself saying. He tenses as both Jason and Jace look at him. But despite how much his heart just aches, Nico turns to the other son of Hades, hands twitching. “You’ve done your part already, Jace. _More_ than enough for us. For all of Jason’s friends.”

Jace stares back at him, confused. “But—”

“ _You’re_ just as important as Jason is. You’ve been through _more_ than you should have while you were with us,” Nico cuts him off. He avoids the other Nico’s gaze, and slowly turns back to Jason. “If you’re set on death, I’ll take you myself.”

“ _What_?” Percy’s voice fills with disbelief. “Nico, you can’t be serious.”

“Thalia, Percy, Reyna, and I will _all_ take you,” Nico corrects, and his voice is firm. He shoots one look at Percy—but he’s never known the son of Poseidon to back down when it comes to his friends. “You died alone, Jason. We’ll make sure you leave this world a second time among friends.”

There’s a tremor in his own voice as he speaks. Jason stares back at him, still as speechless as before, and Nico has to pretend that the image of Jason isn’t blurring in front of him.

“You have to want to be alive again, Jason,” Nico finishes softly, his voice strained. “No one can make you.”

Jace stares at him, his demeanor a mix of concern and worry. “Is going down there good for you?”

“Dad’s realm is different from Tartarus,” Nico reminds him. “I’ll be fine.”

Still, Jace looks at him with the same intensity as Jason, his brow furrowing in a similar manner. “That’s…not what I meant, Nico—”

“I’ll be fine,” Nico repeats—and he holds his hand out to Jason. His throat swells, and he _forces_ himself to keep his voice steady. “I’ll hold your hand all the way to Elysium, Jason. I’ll make sure you get there myself. You’re _not_ getting treated like a lost package again.”

“Nico, you can’t be serious!” Percy cries—and he turns to both Thalia and Reyna. “Thalia—”

“Percy,” Nico snaps. “Shut up.”

It’s _hard_ on his heart. Percy’s protests are only making it harder. Thalia’s _silence_ is only making it harder—and just looking at how Jace and his other self have come out of it so…so full of love is just… _suffocating._

But if this is the most Jason is willing to give himself, then at least this time Nico gets to say goodbye. Even if it may kill him. 

Slowly, Jason raises a hand. The pads of his fingers graze Nico’s palm—and carefully, his hand curls.

“Nico,” he whispers softly—his own voice unsteady. “I…”

He drops his hand, and Nico looks up.

“I don’t know if I can go,” Jason says finally. “I—I don’t _want_ to go.”

*

It’s not until the words leave Jason’s mouth that Nico is willing to look at him. Percy stops waving his arms around. Thalia looks up from the tears hidden beneath her frustration, and Reyna looks at him in shock.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Other Nico’s gruff demeanor fall in surprise. Sees a smile grace Jace’s lips before the decision registers for everyone else.

And…Jason _wants_ to see the decision register for everyone else. He _wants_ to watch Thalia’s face light up with pride at her little brother and _wants_ to live that normal life Percy found after years of fighting for prophecies. He wants to put himself first, and—and wants to be normal, the way Praetor Nico described Jace after the war.

He…wants to be happy. Wants his family.

Jason hears the words as they make it out of his mouth, but even now, he waits to see if he was truly able to say them aloud.

“I don’t want to go,” Jason repeats—more for himself than anyone else. His voice isn’t above a whisper. After _duty_ and _responsibility_ , he has a hard time believing the words are reaching his mouth as he wants them to—

—but it’s all the more reason he _needs_ to use his words. That he _wants_ to.

“I don’t want to go,” Jason repeats a third time. “I want to stay. I—I want to live my life. I don’t—I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Nico stares back at him, the hue of his eyes overcome with tears beneath the moonlight. His mouth hangs open, and his hand falls to his sides. He’s speechless.

Jason thinks he’s just getting started.

“Nico,” he urges softly, and the image of the son of Hades blurs in front of him. “I want to stay here at Camp Halfblood with you. With—with all of you. I—”

Nico throws his arms around Jason without warning. There’s so much force that Jason stumbles—but suddenly Nico’s grip is tight. There aren’t any gusts of wind to save Nico from, or any immediate danger—just a hug—and another trembling sob that Jason _hates_ to hear. But it’s different from the ones Jason’s heard all afternoon.

“I,” Nico starts softly, “heard you the first time.”

Jason blinks through his own tears.

Then, Nico pulls away, evidently flustered at his own actions. He wipes his snot on the sleeve of his jacket, his eyes falling to his shoes. “Sorry, I—”

Jason pulls him back into a hug. Firm, with his heart as close to Nico as it can get.

“You’re stuck with me,” he says softly—and Nico lets out another shuddering sob as he hugs back.

He doesn’t want to lose them again. Not a second time—or _any time._ Jason looks up with Nico beneath him—and he sees nothing smiles from Percy, Thalia, and Reyna. From Thalia.

Thalia stares back at him, her eyes red from tears and eyebrows furrowed together. Her face is filled with the same wonder from Pike’s Peak—but there’s more this time. And it’s all for him.

“You’re staying,” she says.

“I—I _can’t_ leave,” Jason responds—and each word is easier as it leaves his mouth. “I’m still getting to know my big sister.”

Thalia’s eyes brim with tears. Then—

“ _Oof_ —”

One-by-one, Percy, Thalia, and Reyna all attack Jason and Nico from the sidelines, until they’re in one giant group hug. Jason hears a symphony of sobs—and it takes him a moment to realize he’s crying, too. It’s… _freeing._

“Thank fucking gods,” Thalia rasps. “Jason—”

“I know,” Jason replies—and his voice is tight. He wiggles an arm around their bind and curls it around his sister as best he can. “I’m sorry. I know.”

“Can we do this next time without all the pomp and circumstance?” Percy asks—and he laughs through his tears, as tiny as it may sound. “Like, without your death?”

“Percy,” Reyna jabs, “please shut up.”

They all laugh—a nice cadence that seems to pass through all of them. All except Nico. Jason feels Nico hold him tighter, head pressed against his pulse the way Jason relishes in his friends’ breathing—and fears the second he’ll have to let go.

“You’re staying,” Nico says softly—for no one’s ears other than his own. As a reminder, that he won’t _have_ to let go of this life.

“I’m staying,” Jason echoes—and his voice is steadier this time. A sigh of relief from someone else catches his attention—and he watches as Praetor Reyna consoles Roman Thalia. Jason’s Roman sister, who suddenly sheds her own tears. Other Nico’s shoulders finally lower, and Jace musters a smile that Jason can only hope shows on his own face.

No quests, no godly parents. No… _death_ tomorrow.

Just another day in Jason’s life.

He has a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end! Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I promise the next two will make up for it. Thank you so much for reading, and please leave comments if you can! Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tries to count who all is at the Big House—but he gets lost as they come closer. Two figures rise from the porch.
> 
> Piper and Leo stare at him from across the way, stunned, while Jason tries to find where his words have disappeared.
> 
> Piper has a hand over her mouth, too shocked to speak. Leo’s hands are at his side, for once not in a nervous tinker. Instead, he stares forward, jaw to the ground. Both seem to look towards Nico for affirmation—and Nico gives a quiet nod.
> 
> Jason clears his throat as the rest of the figures rise. Frank, Hazel, and Annabeth.
> 
> “So,” he starts gently. Tries to joke. “Turns out that…if UPS loses your soul, the King of the Dead can put in an order for a new body for you.”

They pass Thalia’s pine tree on their way into camp. Clusters of forest and rock formations, where evenings were spent playing Capture the Flag. The bench across from the basketball court when Jason had to settle into the idea that, for the first time since entering the Legion, he’d have to go against Roman tradition. He’d be _allowed_ to. The fate of the world depended on Jason going against everything he’d been taught since the age of two. Another quest and another mission, where Jason couldn’t afford to fail.

_Liking_ Camp Halfblood had never been part of that plan. Wanting to _stay_ as much as he did, outside of the cage of New Rome, was not planned. Jason went as far as New Rome allowed him, then as far as he allowed himself in Long Island before he felt the call to Pasadena. The call, to help save the world one more time.

As Thalia holds his right hand, and Nico guides him with his left, Jason feels himself walking past the path. The road that was paved for him before he was born—when Jupiter determined his lineage, and Juno claimed his victories. Jason Grace, child of Rome. Champion of the King and Queen of the Heavens.

Jason Grace—who has his sister supporting him. A sister, with ties went further than their father’s name.

He made a choice. Jason made a _choice._

For all of the godly meddling that steered his course, no deity made him utter the last few words. Jason _wants_ to stay—with his friends, with his family, _alive_ —and it’s his decision. Not a prize given out at the end of his quest. There’s no pomp and circumstance behind the choice as a son of Jupiter.

Just Jason Grace, sixteen-year-old kid, using his voice.

It doesn’t really set in until the Big House is visible off in the distance. Until he feels a hand on his back, and he’s met with Jace’s tired smile behind him.

“You’ve got a lot of people eager to see you, Jason,” Jace says gently. “I hope you’re ready.”

A lump swells at the back of Jason’s throat. He feels his eyes grow warm—and _truly_ , Jason doesn’t think he’s felt so nervous in his life. In this _new_ life.

“What if they’re mad?” Jason asks. His voice is hoarse. Fearful, and anxious. Words he wouldn’t normally associate with himself. Or allow himself to.

“Dude, of course they’re going to be mad.” Percy claps a hand on his back from the other side.

“You _died_ , man,” Roman Percy agrees, his tone just as pointed. Yet both of them stare at him, smiling at him. _For_ him. “Just don’t be stupid enough to do that again.”

Nico gives Jason’s hand a squeeze. Tighter, than Jason would expect—but it’s definitely not the biggest surprise from Nico as of late. The last time Jason saw Nico di Angelo was across a campfire, coveting in the warmth of another boy. **_A_** boy, at all—and settling into that. Nico’s gaze hasn’t faltered since they reunited.

_You’re enough_ , Nico had said. The words still ring in Jason’s ears and hold his heart. _You’re important._

More than Will. More than Percy.

There’s _intensity_ behind those words, and Jason knows how deeply they run. He can’t stop stealing glances at Nico—at the tired lines beneath the son of Hades’s face—but gets lost at the resolution in his gaze. Of Nico’s grip over his hand, and well over his heart.

When Nico turns to meet his gaze though, there’s not relief. Not quite yet. Nico turns to face Jace, eyebrows knitted together. Gently, he asks, “You’re okay with this?”

It happens in a rhythm. Jace looks upon Nico the way Jason’s found himself staring in the oldest evenings, with a soft smile and eyes spilling with peace. Then he turns to face his own Nico—the one standing just a little further away, arms crossed, and lips pressed into a frown that’s so clearly against this idea. Praetor Nico looks to his boyfriend. Then to Jason. He concedes when Roman Thalia holds him close.

There’s a brief flash of something over Jace’s face. Jason’s seen it too many times on his own—the embarrassment of a slip up that runs deeper than what he’s willing to say—but then he flashes a sheepish smile.

“I kind of left things up in the air,” he admits. “I want to see this one out.”

Jace almost jumps as Thalia places a hand on his arm. Jason’s not really sure how _that_ interaction went, but he can only assume not well based on how both Greek and Roman Thalia were trying to kill each other. He can’t help but steal a glance in his Roman sister’s direction. While she looks wary, the relief hasn’t disappeared from her demeanor.

And Jason’s own sister— _his_ Thalia—hasn’t let go of him. She keeps a hand on Jace, too.

“You’re a good kid, Jace,” Thalia whispers softly. “You both are. I’m…sorry I had a shitty way of showing I care.”

Jace stares back at her, bewildered—and Nico’s lips seem pressed in a frown that mimics his counterpart. But—regardless of how he’s feeling, Jace smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Jason can tell he prefers not to bring it up again. Not now.

“Water under the bridge,” Jace replies just as softly. Then he gestures to Jason. “You can make up to me by being a better sister to this one.”

Jason’s hands twitch at his side, awkward—but as he looks to Thalia, all he sees are her tearful eyes and affirmative smile.

He tries to count who all is at the Big House—but he gets lost as they come closer. Two figures rise from the porch.

Piper and Leo stare at him from across the way, stunned, while Jason tries to find where his words have disappeared.

Piper has a hand over her mouth, too shocked to speak. Leo’s hands are at his side, for once not in a nervous tinker. Instead, he stares forward, jaw to the ground. Both seem to look towards Nico for affirmation—and Nico gives a quiet nod.

Jason clears his throat as the rest of the figures rise. Frank, Hazel, and Annabeth.

“So,” he starts gently. Tries to joke. “Turns out that…if UPS loses your soul, the King of the Dead can put in an order for a new body for you.”

Nico snorts beside him. Praetor Nico probably wants to kill him.

Thalia and Nico make room for Piper and Leo to sprint the short length between the Big House and throw their arms around Jason. It’s gratifying as they hold him close—and as his chest swells, Jason realizes just how much he missed his best friends.

He tries really hard not to cry again.

“Jason,” Piper sniffles into his shirt, wetting his chest with tears. “Jason, _oh my gods_ , Jason—”

“You’re alive,” Leo blathers, and he lets out a loud sniffle. “ _Holy shit_ , Jason, you’re alive—”

Jason’s stance wavers from side-to-side. He leans into his friends as they insist on supporting him, and his vision blurs. He has Piper tucked in one arm, and Leo in the other—and from afar, he watches as Hazel, Frank, and Annabeth all stare back at them, touched.

He lifts his wounded arm and weakly says—“Hey.”

One-by-one, they flank from all sides, lifting Jason up so he doesn’t have to stand alone. He sees the tears— _feels_ the tremors amongst all of his friends, as it overtakes the cadence of his own heart. And the words—they all blend together.

“You’re—”

“—alive—”

“—holy—”

“Hades—”

“—Stupid—”

“—Jason—!”

Jason looks over his shoulder to Jace, who looks thankful not to be the center of attention. To Praetor Nico—who doesn’t look smug, but relieved at the crowd Jason’s found himself in. Nico stands apart from the group, instead greeting Hazel tenderly in a way Jason realizes he’s always admired.

(Hazel spares Jason a glance, misty-eyed—but her brother is always going to be important, and Jason respects that.) 

“Nico,” Piper says finally—and the familiarity of her tone with the son of Hades is shocking. “How?”

So, so many reasons. A group of them surrounding him, right now. Thalia, off to the side and containing herself so the rest of Jason’s friends can process his current state. One answer in particular, standing to the side with Hazel, humble.

Praetor Nico interrupts them. “By way of the most unprofessional, stupidest, most irresponsible decisions made by a god—”

“A mistake,” Jace interrupts. Jason doesn’t miss the way all of his friends look up to meet the blond son of Hades’s eye. “And retribution.”

The gravity of their situation suddenly settles in, and Jason’s flock of friends release hm.

They take in the sight of both Jason Graces, side-by-side. Then the rest of their friends.

“Oh,” Annabeth says, as Beth remarks, “Wow.”

The differences between both daughters of Athena are miniscule at best. They share the same stormy gray eyes and long blond ringlets. Same NRU pullover, with the words _Architecture and Engineering_ stitched at the bottom. There’s even the faintest streak of gray that adorns their hair—with a tick mark and an owl tattoo to separate them.

With a _childhood_ with Jason Grace, to separate them.

Annabeth looks to Thalia first—the daughter of Zeus who helped guide her to Camp Halfblood—then she looks to Jason, too, with a warmer light than the first time Jason stepped foot in camp. He can’t help but feel the same.

Percy greets his girlfriend with a lovely kiss—but pauses first, to make sure he has the right one.

“You will _never guess_ ,” he says wryly, “how many times I can say I’ve been judo flipped by you now.”

Beth smiles warily—but leans into Roman Percy as the son of Neptune comes close.

“You can’t knock him for having good taste,” she quips—and Percy doesn’t look willing to refute the claim.

Praetor Nico melts to Hazel’s side as easily as his Underworldly counterpart does, with Bianca in tow. In that instance, Hazel’s eyes soften—and she defaults to her brother. Nico and she exchange looks that Jason can’t quite decipher—

“We match,” Praetor Nico notes—and he gestures to the badge pinned to her shirt. Despite the anger and frustration Jason’s been at the receiving end of, this Nico holds none of that for Hazel, daughter of Pluto. He smiles, and gestures to the badge pinned to his own shirt. “ _Ave_ , Praetor Levesque.”

Hazel’s eyes follow the badge on his shirt. She looks up to him, stunned—then to her own Nico, who nods. “Big…brother?”

“Hey sis,” Praetor Nico greets. He takes a step back, evidently mindful. “From a parallel universe, at least—”

“We’ve been through that,” Nico reassures—and he mimics Praetor Nico’s arched eyebrow. They continue to stare at each other carefully—but there’s less of a fight than Jason knows Nico is capable of. Nico shifts uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest—but offers, “I…haven’t been… _this_ tan in a long time.”

Praetor Nico stares back at him, and takes the inch handed to him. “I…haven’t been that height in a while.”

Nico stares back at him, offended, and scrutinizes the son of Jupiter. “There’s _maybe_ two inches between us.”

“Five centimeters,” Praetor Nico replies—and he makes a face, like, _Why don’t the Greeks know the metric system?_

“Nico,” Bianca chides behind him—closer to one Nico’s height than the other’s. She hooks her arm around her brother’s, huffing, and stands to the tips of her toes. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry,” both Nicos reply—and then they look at each other. Jason’s Nico in particular halts in the reflex of his words—and Praetor Nico seems to latch onto that before Jason can ask.

There’s a stifled laugh beside Jason. It’s only then that he realizes Jace has chosen to stay by his side, watching the interaction from afar. Jace’s arms are crossed, hand fisted over his mouth as though trying to cover his amusement with a cough—which is when Jason realizes he’s doing the same. They stand in the same posture, head tilted, with the same blemished smile at their lips.

Jason can even see the realization in Jace’s eye, as Jace recognizes it too.

“You doing okay?” Jace asks gently.

“Better,” Jason admits. “You?”

Jace’s gaze lifts—first to his big sister and Praetor Reyna, who seem deep in conversation with Frank over Roman affairs. Then to his childhood friend, Beth, as she and Roman Percy talk to Annabeth and Percy.

Most importantly, his eyes fall to his boyfriend, who introduces Bianca to Hazel with the utmost care. It’s the same empathy that Jason’s been on the receiving end of for the last three days—and no doubt something about Nico that Jace fell in love with daily.

“Better,” Jace agrees.

“Jason,” Praetor Nico calls—and he turns his head as though he _knows_ they’re staring. He makes eye contact with Jace and flashes a look not even Jason is privy to.

Jace smiles in Praetor Nico’s direction—and wordlessly walks over to join his boyfriend.

“What,” Leo suddenly interjects—and Jason realizes both his best friends have overcome the stupor of having two Jasons in front of them. Now, Leo looks upon Jason with a smile that can’t stay straight beneath his tears and jittery hands. “Couldn’t afford to bring our freaky counterparts along, too?”

Jason stares at Leo—and he’s revived with a new epiphany.

_Leo_ is alive and well, like he hoped for back in Jace’s universe. He stands before Jason now—a little taller after months of Jason’s disappearance, and tethered by Jason’s presence. Before three days ago, there wasn’t a chance for them to meet again—not before death.

There’s a soft sob from Piper, and Jason watches her crystalline eyes shine as she comes to the same realization. She holds a hand to her mouth, while Jason blinks away tears.

“International shipping is a nightmare,” He quips. “Don’t even get me started on interdimensional package insurance.”

Leo chortles at the joke—but they envelop each other in another hug. Jason looks up to Piper—who stares at him tentatively. She sniffles, regaining her composure, and fiddles with a hole in her shirt sleeve.

“So,” she starts uncertainly, “I…wasn’t the best girlfriend to you.”

Jason stares back at her, surprised. There’s more to that look—more to Leo and Piper, that’s happened in his absence.

“No,” he agrees—to which she grimaces. Then he smiles in her presence, offering his other arm. “But you’ve always been my best friend.”

Piper looks back at him now, just as mystified as Leo—then throws himself under his other arm with a happy sigh of relief. They both hug him, tightly, and Jason hugs back, his heart swelling.

Surrounded by family, Jason is _home_.

*

They settle on food in the Mess Hall. It’s well past lunch and close to dinner time as they walk through the Dining Pavilion, with doppelgangers in tow. There are a lot of eyes on them. It’s one thing to have one Jason Grace, son of Hades, show up after _months_ of his counterpart being deceased. It’s another to show up with two—one son of Hades, and one resurrected.

Two Jason Graces. Two Nico di Angelos. Two Percy Jacksons—and so on. Nico decides it’s better not to think about logistics. He sees Will standing from the Apollo Cabin, ready to walk his way and make sure he’s okay—but his ex-boyfriend takes one look at Jason Grace and seems frozen in his seat. Nico waves for him to sit back down.

Instinctively, they all seem to separate towards their respective tables. Then, Praetor Nico interjects—“You’re telling me there’s a universe where my sister is a daughter of Pluto, and my boyfriend is a son of Jupiter—but Camp Halfblood still can’t get rid of their Hogwarts tables?”

They all halt and turn to a displeased Roman Nico. Hazel bites back a grin as she looks at Praetor Nico, while Nico stares back, flabbergasted.

“Well,” Jace says, “it’s supposed to help campers feel unity with their cabins.”

He smiles as Praetor Nico’s expression sours, as though he knew the answer wouldn’t suffice. Even Jason looks amused—and Nico’s heart skips a beat as he realizes they both unintentionally glanced at each other.

“It’s an ineffective utilization of space,” Praetor Nico criticizes. Off in the distance, Nico thinks they’ve caught the attention of both Chiron and Mr. D. They don’t, however, opt to stand up and greet their bunch. “Who sidles _twenty children_ to one table, when there are plenty of gods who either never have children, or one at best? Camp Halfblood isn’t lacking in space.”

“Is…he always like this?” Nico hears Percy whisper to Roman Percy, who laughs.

“What,” Roman Percy sniggers, “yours isn’t a chatterbox?”

“Um…well—” Percy turns to Nico, and Nico stands tall, looking at the son of Poseidon expectantly. Then—“I’ve heard Nico’ll summon skeletons to keep him company. And to piss of Chiron.”

Roman Percy lifts his gaze, amused, while, Roman Thalia prattles with laughter.

“Sounds like Nico, alright,” she says affectionately—which Nico doesn’t think he’ll ever really get used to.

“Skeletons keep good company,” Nico protests lightly. “They don’t _gossip_ as much as much as you do, Percy.”

Roman Percy joins his old praetor in laughter—while Percy stares back, red. But as the edge of Nico’s lips etch into a smile, Percy seems to relax into his own grin. Nico doesn’t realize how much it puts him at ease to have Percy Jackson as a friend—over an old crush/colleague.

Then, Jason claps a hand over Nico’s shoulder, and he feels the pleasant pulse at his chest.

“Nico and I used to sit together before I died—the first time.” Jason’s quick to correct himself as Praetor Nico shoots a disparaging look. “Less lonely at your dad’s table that way, you know? Having a friend and all.”

There’s warmth in Jason’s tone, as there is in his touch. Nico feels his heart flutter at Jason’s words, but has a hard time meeting his gaze.

Hazel sighs and nods her head in agreement, catching the attention of both her brothers. “I’d be all by myself at Camp Jupiter if the barracks were separated like Camp Halfblood is.”

Nico recalls the early days in his relationship with his sister, when she loathed the fact he guided her to New Rome with no intention of actually staying. They’re closer now—even more so, after this past summer. For all the ways that Bianca, daughter of Zeus unnerves Nico from afar, he knows he’s better off with Hazel at his side.

And her words seem to cement Praetor Nico’s decision. His blue eyes flicker in a way Nico can’t equate to Jason—then, with Jace in tow, he marches over to an unused table that baffles them all. Hera’s.

“Dinner is meant to be eaten among family,” Praetor Nico declares. “So sit down and let’s eat. I’m starving.”

They end up pushing two tables together. There’s a moment where Jason eyes his own table with an unspoken thought—but it gets interrupted as Percy asks for his hand in lifting the Poseidon table. Chiron clears his throat, eying them strangely—but—

“It would be rude not to accommodate our guests,” Percy says.

“Yes,” Roman Percy agrees, pointing to the centaur, with a much thicker New York accent. “It _would_ be rude of you.”

“We’ve already experienced a Civil War between Greek and Roman demigods,” Frank points out, and his expression twists into a grimace. “Maybe it’d be best to take preventative measures in an _interdimensional_ war.”

For as confident as the words sound, he startles easily at the look of approval he gets from _two_ Nicos. And blushes, when Bianca calls him a _handsome choice_ for Hazel. 

—which urges their camp instructor to leave them be, until some godly crises will call him in the future.

There are too many people who are too eager to see Jason Grace after his absence. Piper and Leo stay nearby, identical smiles across their faces. They keep trying to catch Nico’s eye, looking at him as though he’s given them the world—and he’s not quite sure how to feel about that.

Thalia is tentative of the whole experience. Despite their earlier disagreements, Nico thinks they’re handling it the most similarly. After _months_ of being misplaced, after _finally_ accepting that Jason Grace was dead—he’s alive again. Jason said yes. He _wants_ to be alive—and each glance he spares Nico, Nico breathes more easily.

And—

“Oh,” Jason says, when Nico moves to sit beside Hazel and Frank.

Nico pauses—and as he turns to face Jason, he’s met with a look of disappointment. Across from them sits Jace and the other Nico—and Nico doesn’t miss the way the blond son of Hades just stares at him knowingly. He can’t help but shake his head. Jason is surrounded by his two best friends, by his sister, and by his old _crew_ —and he still inches to the left, so Nico can join him on the right.

He doesn’t miss the way Jason’s shoulders fall, content.

Their rhythm is different from Jace and the other Nico. When Jace smiles, he looks more like Jason. More relaxed, more earnest despite the exhaustion of the last few days. Their hands are intertwined beneath the table. Nico doesn’t have to look. He _knows_ that they’re leaning on each other, unyielding to any other god willing to separate them.

Nico looks to his other self, who’s unapologetic about his relationship. About Jace, about his lineage—not as a son of Jupiter, but as one of Juno, sitting merrily at her table despite Hera’s particular nature in claiming anyone as her own.

Their similarities startle Nico when their plates conjure the same meal. He’s even more unsettled, when the _other_ Nico has the same look on his face, making the same observation.

“Nonna’s gnocchi,” Praetor Nico notes, dribbling his fork across the plate. “Well—”

“As good as Camp Halfblood can get it,” Nico finishes for his counterpart. For every way that Nico feels unsettled by their situation, the other Nico shows it on his face. In this instance, Praetor Nico stares at him meaningfully—and Nico wonders just how much of their childhood was the _same_ before their paths diverged.

He catches Hazel glancing at him warily, silent—but waiting for him to finish his meal.

“Hope you got your appetite back,” Roman Percy notes—which startles Nico before he realizes Roman Percy is talking to the _other_ Nico. _Then_ , Roman Percy glances over to him just as keenly, a little more insightful than what Nico’s used to.

Praetor Nico flushes red, like a child being scolded by an older sibling. He pushes his food around.

“I didn’t lose it,” Praetor Nico dismisses. “It’s just slipped my mind here and there.”

Roman Percy takes a deep bite of his burger and opens his mouth to speak—

“You lose your rights to use that excuse,” Praetor Reyna dismisses, “when you neglect to tell us you’re turning into a _cloud_ , Nico.”

“A _cloud_?” Jason repeats—and his familiarity with this other Nico feels strange. Still, Praetor Nico grimaces under their gazes.

“It’s been over a _year_ now,” Praetor Nico bites, “and that hasn’t been an issue since the war. Can you _please_ —”

“No,” is the resounding agreement from Praetor Reyna, Roman Percy, and Roman Thalia from afar—all with a mixture of amusement and light scolding that makes that Praetor Nico harrumph in his seat.

“You’ve been taking care of yourself though,” Jace suddenly interjects—which takes the attention of his boyfriend. It’s a gentler tone, but still mixed with concern. “Right?”

Despite the light bickering between all of their Roman counterparts, Praetor Nico’s expression softens. There’s a brief moment, where he grazes the beads over his wrist, before he picks up the fork at his plate.

“Yes, Jason,” he reassures carefully—tenderly, in a way that makes Nico feel self-conscious. Jace flashes a look—one that Nico’s been on the receiving end of for the last few days—and it’s in one glance that _anyone_ can see how much they care about each other.

Nico turns when he catches Jason staring at him. At the end of Jason’s glance is a kind, hopeful smile that makes Nico flush.

They resume dinner with an orchestra of conversations. The mistrust from Hermes’s satchel hasn’t vanished—Nico can see both Thalias conversing with one another in a tedious game, either avoiding subjects or tiptoeing a fine line before one of the Reynas interject.

There’s a way Reyna looks at the Roman Thalia that’s different—full of an emotion that Nico’s all too familiar with, as the other world’s Thalia and Reyna have no trouble showing their affection. For all of the pain that went into convincing Thalia to stay for Jace, the Roman Thalia is the one who’s sustained injury, eagerly anticipating the return of her little brother. Nico notices when Praetor Reyna’s expression breaks, and the warmth of Roman Thalia’s smile as it grows tight. He knows Reyna notices, too.

Beth and Roman Percy act like a couple that is still getting to know each other—a little wittier, a little more careful with their touches than the way Percy stares at Annabeth Chase like she’s breathed life in clay. Bianca has herself glued to Hazel and Frank. Purposefully.

It's hard to miss the way everyone keeps staring at Nico, sitting at the other side of the table of Bianca di Angelo. Percy keeps skirting looks in his direction—with an unwavering concern that’s rooted in something much older than this whole ordeal. Thalia eyes him, despite all of the words exchanged about her responsibilities. Reyna knows. Hazel knows.

Nico focuses on Jason—Jason’s dimpled smile and brilliant blue eyes, as he and Jace carry on a conversation like long-lost brothers.

But eventually, it gets brought up. This distance, between Bianca and him that is noticeable not only to the people in his own universe, but in the other Nico’s, as well.

“…my first couple days here, Jace would sit with me so I wouldn’t get lonely,” Bianca says—and Nico tries _hard_ to wrap his mind around a Bianca di Angelo who actually _stayed_ in Camp Halfblood. She smiles bashfully, her silky hair smooth as it falls down her shoulder, and looks at Hazel as though she’s known the daughter of Pluto her whole life.

Percy stares at her, as perplexed as Nico feels. Thalia and Annabeth do, too.

“You…didn’t tell me you were childhood friends with my—with Bianca,” Nico says, quick to correct himself as he turns to Jace. He looks upon the other son of Hades.

The edges of Jace’s lips twitch, and he turns to meet his Nico’s gaze—who makes a face.

“I,” Jace starts slowly, “don’t have a good track record of mentioning Bianca around you.”

Nico sees Reyna and Percy turning into the conversation, and he shoves the irritation down to the far corners of his mind. He bites the inside of his mouth, recounting the cold chill he felt when Jace confirmed she was alive. He hates how the mention of her name invites _Bianca’s_ gaze as well.

But, Jason nudges him. His gaze is comforting compared to everyone else who’s stared at him like he’s broken. Leo and Piper don’t quite _get him_ —Nico never expected them to—but they seem to follow Jason’s lead, offering a space in their little trio. Nico looks to Hazel, whose strength is unwavering even from the other end of the table, even as the conversations carry on, and unfurls the knot in his stomach.

“You caught me off guard,” he admits.

“Hey,” Praetor Nico interjects—and he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re not the only one.”

His expression is somber—even more than what Nico would expect from the son of the King and Queen of the Heavens.

“I’m, uh,” his boyfriend suddenly mutters, sheepish. “I’m apparently really bad at first impressions.” 

Praetor Nico pats him gently on the arm—then straightens, to kiss him. It’s a strange sight—one that _absolutely_ draws the line where Jason ends and Jace begins—but Jace is comforted by the gesture.

“You did _something_ right,” Praetor Nico teases lightly, “to get here.”

“Took a couple detours,” Jace mumbles, tired—but he smiles, leaning into the warmth of his boyfriend.

Nico feels his own skin tingling at the sight of the touch. He’s unsure what to make of it—but then Jason interjects.

“Can’t be perfect all the time,” Jason says—and both Praetor Nico and Jace look at him. Jason crosses his arms over his chest, and slowly, his own lips lift into a mirroring smile.

“No,” Jace agrees, “guess I can’t.”

Praetor Nico stares at Jason with a careful poker face—but then he smiles. He raises his chalice and clinks it with Jason’s own. “ _Now_ you’re getting it.”

At some point, Nico excuses himself to the restroom.

“Do you need help?” Jason asks out of nowhere—and he carries the same look again, like when Nico was going to sit with his sister. Behind him, both Jace and Praetor Nico stare curiously. Leo flashes a look of amusement.

Nico flushes, looking upon Jason’s expression with confusion. “To _pee_?”

“Um. Fair point.” Jason smiles sheepishly. He looks like he wants to say more—but holds his tongue. Nico offers the son of Jupiter one more look before he exits the Mess Hall.

On his way back, he gets stopped by Bianca.

“Oh,” she says—evidently startled by his presence. She lingers by the entrance to the men’s restroom, eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in a reddish hue.

Nico stares back at her—and decides not to focus on the fact that he’s taller. That she’s a little older than the Bianca that he lost in both life in life and death, without her green news cap to hide her smile, and with twice as many freckles across her sun-kissed face. She’s as Nico would’ve imagined her—a spitting image of their mother, with Maria di Angelo’s poise and whimsy, set beneath a somber expression that’s only grown with Bianca.

Except her eyes are blue. She’s _warm_ in complexion, to the faded tone of Nico’s own flesh, and very much alive. Very much not _his_ sister.

Nico points to the door behind her. “The women’s restroom is that way.”

Bianca follows his gesture, then nervously pulls a lock of hair behind her ear. The Bianca stained in Nico’s mind will always be twelve, decorated by a long braid and a silver parka—with a cold expression that tells him to _move on._ This one very much has her sight set on him, dressed neither as a huntress, nor as a camper. And instead of looking away, she gives Nico her full attention.

“I know,” she says, and her tone is tentative. “I…grew up here, too. I know Camp Halfblood pretty well.”

Nico stares at her, curious of what she’s insinuating. Then, his shoulders slack and he folds his arms across his chest. Carefully, he explains, “I…wouldn’t really say that I _grew up_ here.”

She stares at him curiously, and he feels a nervous knot curling in his chest.

“I was on my own for a while,” Nico continues. He fiddles with the three beads resting over his collarbone, and his cheeks flush. “Jason’s the one that convinced me to give Camp Halfblood a chance. Him and Reyna. It… _took_ me a while to consider Camp Halfblood my home.”

She stares at him, her azure eyes rippling like a pond. And slowly, she guesses, “Because I died.”

Nico can’t keep her gaze. His eyes are at his feet before he knows it, the knot growing in his chest. He side-steps her, to get out of the entrance of the bathroom, and leans against a wall instead.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice tight. “Because you died.”

He startles when she touches his shoulder but tries not to let it show. It’s as familiar to him as it is foreign—and… _feels_ uncomfortable. But she perseveres when she notices. She takes extra care, soaking in his reaction before she leans against the wall beside him, a foot of distance between them.

“So,” she whispers softly carefully, “I…wasn’t the best sister to you.”

Nico stares at her, surprised. Then, he bites the inside of his mouth and shakes his head slowly. “You’re the other Nico’s sister. I’m…not dumping that expectation on you.” 

She stares at him carefully with an expression he can’t quite place.

“If there’s any universe where I thought you were better off without me,” she says firmly, “then I was a bad sister.”

There’s something different about her than his own Bianca. Not just the hue of her eyes, or the tone of her skin. She stares at him, lips pressed into a frown with a new eloquence. Nico stares at her, once again at a loss of what to say.

“You’re avoiding me,” she guesses again—and despite meeting only hours ago, her voice is tight.

Nico stares even more. He forces himself to find his voice. “I figured you weren’t interested in me.”

His admission invites another look—one full of sorrow as she smiles. In a way, it echoes Jace—as proof that they grew up together. Bianca crosses her arms over her chest and sighs quietly.

“What does it say about me,” she says softly, “when my own brother expects so little of my company?”

He wants to correct her again. _The other Nico_ is her brother—not him—but the words don’t make it to the edge of his tongue. It occurs to him that while her death was thrown around dozen times in Hermes satchel, he hasn’t mentioned how she died—not once. Bianca came to that conclusion on her own.

For as different as they look now, there’s evidently enough of their history that’s very much the same. Nonna’s gnocchi, the Lotus Casino—and Bianca inevitably leaving him.

But…the nervous knot begins to fade in his chest, and he’s less anxious around her than before.

Because the moment isn’t fleeting, like it has been any other time he’s tried to contact Bianca.

Because _he’s_ not the one trying.

Nico’s feet feel a firmer on the ground.

“I never did understand why you left,” Nico admits hoarsely. He kicks his foot into the floor, unable to look her in the eyes. He thinks about Jace’s words to Thalia. Just how _easy_ it was for Thalia to _abandon_ Jason. For as frustrating as the whole situation was, Nico understands why Thalia joined, when she lost everything. Bianca had _him_ —but it wasn’t enough.

He tries not to linger on that thought. Tries not to hold a _grudge_ , like his big sister’s ghost once advised. But it doesn’t mean he suddenly understands everything behind her decisions.

“When…I left my Nico,” she says gently, “I thought you’d be okay without me.”

“Bianca, I was _ten,”_ Nico refutes. “Even if I was swept away by—by some _boy with a sword_ , no one could replace you.”

He can’t keep the ire from his voice—but he halts as he looks at Bianca. She stares at him with teary eyes, and he reexamines the brashness of his own tone. The coarse texture that appeared the day she died and never really went away. It’s evidently startling to her, when Nico has spent so many years used to it now.

Nico forces himself to calm down. “Sorry—’

“And I was twelve, and didn’t understand the consequences of my actions,” she says—agreeing with him. Her eyebrows knit together. Her expression is difficult to read—but the words are steady. It’s then that Nico realizes it’s not the first time Bianca’s had to say them. “I…think we both know by now that our worlds are very different. But, I…I’d like to think that your Bianca and I loved you a lot. Maybe not as much as you deserved—but a lot.”

Nico’s gaze glistens with tears.

“You can be angry with me,” she whispers gently. Encouragingly. “I was for a long time when I realized what it cost me. I think it was why I was so eager to leave Jace, too.”

He stares at her in confusion.

“I joined the Huntresses,” she elaborates. “For me. Jace doesn’t really have a good relationship with them.”

The argument Thalia and Jace has echoes between Nico’s ears. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget it anytime soon. “So I’ve gathered.”

There’s more to her look—but she simply smiles and combs a hand through her long hair nervously. It’s a tick that hasn’t escaped her in age. “In _my_ universe—for the longest time, I thought _you_ were the one who died.”

Oh. Nico stares at her, and the way she chews on her lip. Her eyes dim with an image of the past—and he sees a little bit of himself there, too. The anger, frustration, and self-loathing that came from her death. From _his_ death.

“I joined because I was trying to move on from your death. I couldn’t.” Bianca looks back to him sadly. “I…can’t make excuses for how your Bianca treated you in this universe, Nico. But if she was anything like me—then leaving you behind was never about _leaving_ you. It was about choosing for myself—and that’s worse—”

“I’m not angry with you,” Nico interjects before she can go on a nervous tangent. He tugs at the tail end of his shirt. “I’m…okay, actually.”

Bianca stares back at him doubtfully.

“Death is a hard lesson. Harder, when it’s someone you love,” Nico says. He fiddles with the skull ring at the base of his finger—but the words are light. “You’re right. I…was avoiding you a little. I was scared of what would happen if I saw you again.”

What he would do. How far he would go for his sister, _again._ There is no line where this Bianca ends and his own begins—Nico thinks he’ll love her in every universe and hearing of her death will always keep a scar at his heart. But it’s not the gaping wound it once was.

Nico mulls over his next words. “I…spent a lot of years searching for you. Grieving your death. I…was scared of moving on without you. I…think it was that same fear. But I…I don’t think I have that anymore.”

Bianca stares at him inquisitively. “What happened to it?”

“I’ve gained more than I lost.” Nico has Hazel. In turn, Hazel invites Frank’s company, and he gets to talk to his sister whenever he needs. When he _wants._ Even though Reyna is with the Huntresses, there was a time when she offered a hand and her embrace, when Nico feared anyone’s love or touch altogether. Jason reciprocated their friendship at the end of a poisonous chalice, and never let go of the trust they built. Even in the past few days alone, he thinks Piper and Leo have made the effort to understand him better.

Nico’s made a home for himself at Camp Halfblood, after so many years of running. In Camp Halfblood, in shadowtravel classes with kids like Felix. He’s built a family in his second chance in life, much like he convinced his sister she deserved.

Percy and Annabeth want to make an effort of being his friend—and this time, Nico can believe it. 

As he thinks about it now, the scar at his heart feels like a faded line. Nico thumbs the three beads over his clavicle without thought, over his skull ring.

He’s never going to get Bianca back. But he still has a sister who cares about him—and a family that wants to support him, even at his lowest.

“Thank you,” he says finally—and his voice is even, “for thinking about me. I…don’t really get to hear that these days. Not from you, I mean.”

He’s met with her proud gaze as he looks back up. Bianca’s blue eyes cloud with the beginning of tears.

“I wish there was more that I could give you,” she whispers softly.

Nico shifts awkwardly between his feet, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s…been a long time since I’ve had a hug from you.”

Bianca stares at him.

“Never mind. You don’t have to—”

She throws her arms around him, floating just inches off the ground to meet him at level. Bianca wraps him in a tight hug—and the familiarity of her warmth is enough for the tears to swell in his eyes.

“Say no more,” she whispers—and Bianca is smiling at the nape of his neck. “ _Ti voglio bene_ , Nico.”

Nico bites back a sob. He exhales slowly, instead, and hugs her back—noting just how _small_ she feels in comparison. “I love you too.”

They hold onto each other for as long as time allows. When they let go of each other, there’s no pain—only peace.

*

“They’ve been gone for a while,” Jason notes, his gaze focused down the hall of the Dining Pavilion. “Should someone go see if they’re okay?”

“What,” Praetor Nico asks, “to see if he’s having trouble peeing?”

Jason flushes red—but as he looks back to this other Nico, he notices Jace also sporting a sheepish expression. He fiddles with the medical tape on his arm before deciding it’s not the best idea. Nico had eyed it earlier, evidently curious how he acquired the injury. It’s nowhere near Tartarus—but. It’s far from how Jason normally acts, too.

“They’ll be fine,” Praetor Nico says eventually, ever one to notice a nervous Jason. “They’re better without us.”

“You…don’t want to go check on them?” Jason asks, surprised. Though maybe it’s innate. Percy, Annabeth, and Hazel have been obvious in their glances between the di Angelo siblings, even if it hasn’t been said aloud. He’s sure it’s been grating on Nico.

“No,” Praetor Nico replies. “Because if it were me, I wouldn’t want _me_ around.”

Praetor Nico seems set on that logic. The similarities between Jace and Jason are eerie, but both Nicos have been toeing around conversations like two sides of a tightrope—one end who still has Bianca di Angelo, and another who lost her a long time ago. Their lives are different—but the heart of Nico di Angelo is still very much the same. Jason doesn’t think he’d feel so comfortable around Praetor Nico otherwise.

While Jason enjoys Jace’s company, the moments where they fall into the same rhythms catches them off guard. He can only assume the same for Praetor Nico and Nico.

“She died in my world too,” Praetor Nico explains—and he makes a face, reliving what appears to be a long story. He glances over to his Thalia, Reyna, and Percy—and Pluto Thalia returns the glance with a smile. “They helped me through it. Your Nico didn’t have that.”

“That’s different now,” Jason protests—and Praetor Nico hesitates before offering a nod.

Praetor Nico turns his attention to Hazel, who also has her eyes locked with the hallway. “I know. But if Nico has some unresolved feelings about Bianca, then that’s between him and our sister. The only people that need to be in that conversation are my sister and other self.”

Jace leans slightly, taking in his boyfriend. A look of pity flashes across his face, rooted in an otherworldly issue as he touches Praetor Nico’s shoulder. “My guess is that she still has a lot of guilt over what happened, Nico.” 

“She doesn’t have to. Not for me. We’re in a good place.” Praetor Nico doesn’t budge. He shakes his head softly and shrugs. “Maybe for him.”

“You could bicker less,” Jace suggests. “And involve her more.”

“Bickering is how she should know we’re in a good place,” Praetor Nico protests, and he curls his arms over his chest. He makes a face—but at a stalemate with his boyfriend, he softens. “Don’t worry about it, Jace.”

Jason frowns. “If…someone needs to mediate—”

“Jason,” Praetor Nico says—a little more sharply. And again, he repeats, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jason stares back at this Nico, flummoxed—but Jace offers a weary smile, charmed.

“Nico would want you to focus on yourself first. _Your_ Nico,” Jace explains. He holds a different expression Jason—one that feels like a step past how Jason’s feeling. There’s a sympathetic gleam in his eye, but it becomes more encouraging as he takes Jason’s attention. “You’re alive now, Jason. Take it a day at a time before you start taking care of other people again.”

Jason stares in surprise.

“Yeah, Jason,” Leo says—and he gives Jason a simple nudge. “Listen to your conscience.”

Piper smiles gently, nudging him from the left. She flashes Jace a look that Jason can’t quite place. “He’s got a lot to say when you give him the chance.”

There’s an apologetic quality to the way she looks at Jace. Jace’s smile spreads ever so slightly—then he’s startled as Praetor Nico pinches one of his cheeks. There’s a warmth in Praetor Nico’s eyes as he reaches up and kisses Jace on the cheek.

“Look at you,” Praetor Nico says, “Finally taking care of yourself.”

Jace flushes, his cheeks dusting pink as the lines of exhaustion seem more prominent beneath his eyes. Jason’s heart aches for him.

“Baby steps,” Jace says finally—and Praetor Nico curls a hand over his boyfriend’s.

“Baby steps,” Praetor Nico agrees, and he goes about eating the rest of his gnocchi.

Piper clears her throat. “Of… _all_ the people I would’ve guessed was Jace’s boyfriend, I didn’t expect it to be Nico.”

That comment attracts a cacophony of disarray.

“Seriously, Beauty Queen?” Leo asks—and he arches an eyebrow. “Have you not heard the way Jason talks about Nico’s arms?”

Praetor Nico arches an eyebrow, one hand flying to his bicep while Jason flushes pink.

“That’s not _Jace_ though,” Piper protests—then she seems to ponder the issue. “But—Nico and Jason did spend an awful lot of time together. Even when we were dating. I guess—”

“Nothing ever happened,” Jason feels compelled to say—and this time, Piper _does_ look confused.

“I had a theory,” Percy interjects—and he looks awful proud of himself while Annabeth rolls her eyes.

“Founded on nothing,” Annabeth says wryly. “All you said one morning was that you thought Nico and Jace would make a cute couple.”

“That’s Kelp Brain for you,” Beth says—but both Percys look proud to be right.

Frank leans in, evidently surprised. “You…mean it wasn’t obvious? Jace wasn’t exactly subtle.”

With each question, Jason feels himself growing redder—even when he isn’t the boyfriend in question. He and Jace mirror each other in hue, while Praetor Nico arches an eyebrow of amusement.

“I asked,” Hazel interjects.

“It…didn’t really seem relevant at the time,” Jace mumbles, flustered. He has a look on his face—one Jason’s seen in the mirror before when he’s deliberating over a decision. _At the time_ , Jason was dead. Now, Praetor Nico and Jace lean into each other like another half of a whole.

Praetor Nico turns his gaze to Jason momentarily—and nods.

“Percy spilled the beans,” he says.

Roman Percy shrugs, nonchalant. “Oops.”

Annabeth nods. “Sounds like a Percy thing to do.”

Beth nods in agreement. “Definitely a Percy thing to do.”

“How… _did_ the two of you end up together?” Jason asks, when the conversation carries elsewhere. He watches as Jace’s eyes light up, fingers trailing down the inside of Praetor Nico’s arm and brush against Praetor Nico’s wrist bone—

“Doesn’t matter,” Praetor Nico says, and he flashes a look as he squeezes Jace’s fingers.

Jason could laugh. His lips spread into a mirthful smile.

“Frankly, I don’t think I could have gotten this far without you _or_ my Nico, Nico,” Jason admits. “You both matter to me. _Us_.”

Jason nods his head to Jace, who chuckles softly.

“I think he means that you’re me, and I’m you,” Jace explains gently. There’s a twinkle in his eye, and Jason doesn’t miss the way Praetor Nico flushes. “You don’t need us to give you the answer.”

They share another look, sweet and intimate with their hands laced together. It’s a wonderful sight, with both Jace and Praetor Nico leaning into each other’s warmth. For all the nervousness Praetor Nico exuded, he’s happy now beside Jace.

Still, Jason wishes he knew more. Before he has the chance to ask, Nico and Bianca emerge from the hallway—both clearly in better spirits. They both make a beeline for Hazel and join their surprised sister’s side with matching smiles.

Praetor Nico kisses Jace one more time and stands to his feet before joining the rest of his siblings.

“Remember,” Jace tells Jason, “you’re enough.”

*

They don’t stay for campfire songs. The sound of Apollo’s ukulele strums across the cabins—but after three days-worth of adventures, Nico knows Jace is aching to get home.

Both Nico and Jace agree to a detour away from the Sun God, with the agreement they didn’t have a day or two to spare for Apollo’s soliloquies. But, Jason thinks he’ll be eating smores and singing old folk songs about Greek Gods soon enough.

Instead, they gather near the entrance to camp beside Thalia’s pine tree, which feels fitting in his mind.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for a game of Capture the Flag?” Percy asks his counterpart, once they’re on warmer terms.

“You two knuckleheads want to wreck camp that badly?” Thalia retorts, her expression wry. “You realize you’re the same person, right? There’s no point in a dick-measuring contest.”

To her surprise, the Roman Thalia sports a look of amusement while Roman Percy spreads into a wily grin.

Jason startles as Roman Percy looks in his direction.

“Think I got a taste of how you fight with your boy over there,” Roman Percy says appreciatively. “Maybe another time, Poseidon Me. Y’know—knowing the gods and all.”

Percy snorts, but the sentiment is reflected in his demeanor. “The trick is to piss them off enough that they’re too tired to deal with you.”

“You get it!” Roman Percy erupts into an infectious laugh—and they both shake hands. His expression grows somber in a way only Percy Jackson can muster—and Jason hears something along the lines of “… _look after Nico, seriously._ ”

Beth pulls Jason into a warm embrace, evidently happy of his presence no matter what incarnation of Jason Grace is in front of her. Tucked beneath her arm is a notebook—no doubt filled with new designs and collaborations between Annabeth and her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she warns. “You’re too smart to get lost in your own head, Jason. Remember that.”

The edge of Jason’s lips curl into a smile. He looks over to Annabeth briefly, and thinks they’ll be keeping company with one another in the incoming days. “Luckily I have someone as wise as you to keep me straight here.”

She smiles at him again, stern, but sisterly.

Then Roman Thalia holds him so tightly that he doesn’t want to let go. She’s shorter than him—but nowhere near as small as the one Jason is used to. Her presence is steadfast—sturdy like the hardest of gemstones, and even more valuable than the most expensive of jewels.

“You’re still welcome to come with, baby bro,” she whispers in his ear. She holds him tight, savoring the pulse of his heartbeat. One he actually gets to keep. “You’re worth every penny to keep.”

Over her shoulder, Jason gets a view of his own big sister. Thalia Grace, Lieutenant of Artemis’s Huntresses, with the same steadfast demeanor. She’s short in stature—but Jason sees every ounce of love in her eyes as she patiently waits for him.

“I think someone else called dibs already,” Jason jokes lightly. As he pulls away, he’s met with her oily black eyes and warm expression. “Thank you for seeing me home.”

Her lips lift into a bittersweet smile that makes it harder to let go. “If it were up to me, you’d always have a home with me.”

“Don’t worry about her too much,” Praetor Reyna interjects eventually. Both Reynas and Jason’s Thalia appear, and Praetor Reyna flashes her girlfriend a meaningful look. One that gets Roman Thalia to let go of Jason. “She says the same thing to the stray cats that visit my backyard.”

Roman Thalia doesn’t refute the claim—but her smile looks a little less sad as she leans against her daughter of Bellona. “I’m a sucker for a cute face.”

She gestures afar, to Praetor Nico, as an example, and Jason laughs.

“I can’t believe there’s a world where my best friend and my sister are together,” he says approvingly. “You two really bring out the best in each other.”

At that compliment, Roman Thalia’s smile widens, and she nudges her head towards Jace and Praetor Nico. “Trust me—that’s a common theme on our side of the satchel, baby brother.”

“It’s…strange,” Praetor Reyna notes, and she gestures to her counterpart and Thalia, “to see a world where Thalia and I are Huntresses. I never would have thought of it on my own.”

Thalia studies Praetor Reyna, and she matches Roman Thalia’s smile despite their earlier grievances. “I made a convincing argument.”

“I’d…say it’s strange there’s a world where Thalia and I are dating,” Reyna notes in contrast—and the pitch of her voice is off. “Especially since devoting one’s self to Diana means committing to celibacy.”

Roman Thalia and Praetor Reyna exchange looks, evidently not pleased with that idea.

“Well—not _only_ celibacy, RARA,” Thalia protests—and she shakes her head. “That’s _one_ of the reasons girls join. Others want to swear off men, have immortality, or some other reason. Maybe one of these days between tomorrow and a century from now, I’ll actually meet a nice person who isn’t bent on destroying Olympus.”

Jason coughs and hides a smile behind his fist. Reyna stares onward, puzzled.

“You’ve…considered a relationship as a Huntress?” she asks.

“The only boy I’ll ever love from now on is my brother,” Thalia declares—and she gives Jason an emphatic punch on the arm. She inspects Reyna, nonchalant, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “But—yeah. I’ve considered it. The girl I’d drop everything for, since she knows me so well.”

Reyna stares for a long time. “How…well?”

Thalia shrugs. “Everything I can fit on a letter, RARA.”

Suddenly, Reyna’s cheeks glow a bashful shade of pink.

Jason stares between the two of them, suddenly wondering if he should take a step back.

Instead, Praetor Reyna snorts, her eyes sparking with amusement. She sports a look that makes her look like Hylla. “Smooth.”

“Aw, be nice.” Roman Thalia leans in, her expression as warm as Jason’s used to, and smiles at Reyna. “I think she’s cute.”

Reyna looks like she wants to dig a hole and bury her face in the dirt, while Thalia frowns. She clears her throat. “I…thank you.”

For all of their sakes, the goodbyes continue. Jason watches as Bianca throws her arms over Hazel and Nico each, with a warm and loving squeeze. He startles as Nico looks at him over Bianca’s shoulder—and slowly, they all make their way over.

“Take care of yourself,” he hears Bianca dote. “Make sure you’re getting a full eight hours of sleep. Eat three meals a day! You don’t need to brush your hair a lot, but you could stand to tie it back, your eyes are very pretty—”

“ _Bianca_ ,” Nico interjects—with an ire that sounds too much like the other Nico. He flushes as she pushes the bangs out of his face, and slowly, his shoulders heave. “I will. Thank you for caring.”

Bianca stares at Nico like he’s grown a second head—and Jason remembers the conversation between Jace and Praetor Nico. How much bickering usually erupts between the di Angelos. While Bianca dotes like a mother hen, Nico looks like he’s holding his tongue. Though—he doesn’t seem to mind it very much.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” she asks gently. “I mean—you’re my brother, too.”

Nico looks touched at the sentiment. His eyes fall to Jason first—but leans into Hazel’s orbit out of instinct.

“I have a life here,” he says. “A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to say that.”

Bianca stares at him, doubtful—but Nico only smiles with her growing worry.

“I’m okay, Bianca,” he reassures. “Some days I shock myself with how _okay_ I am over others.”

There’s a confidence to his words that makes Jason’s heart lift. Even after everything that’s happened—two trips to Tartarus, and this whole mess with Hermes, Nico holds Hazel’s hand like a pillar—steady in her orbit while Reyna and Percy stand afar. He doesn’t miss the way Nico glances his way for the briefest second, either.

“Baby steps,” Jason utters without realizing.

Nico catches wind of his words, and he nods in agreement. “Baby steps.”

“Sorry, Sis,” Praetor Nico interjects. “Zero exchange policy on your little brother. You’ve been stuck with me since birth.”

“Think of it less like a zero-exchange policy and more like a two-for-one sale,” Roman Percy interjects. Once he gets a word in, both Praetor Nico and Nico exchange a look before shaking their heads in exasperation. 

Hazel squeezes Nico’s arm gently and looks up to Bianca with a gentle smile. “We take good care of each other.”

“We do,” Nico agrees.

Finally, Bianca concedes, her lips falling into a quaint smile. She floats over to Jason and plants her feet to the ground.

They stare at each other oddly azure blue eyes against blue.

“Don’t worry,” Jason says finally, “I’ll make sure Nico’s taken care of.”

The promise is enough to make Bianca smile. She kisses him on the cheek and hugs him as though they’ve known each other for years. “You’re not my Jace, but you’re just as important as he is. Don’t forget that.”

Jason feels a little weird hugging her back—but from the corner of his eye, he notices Jace in conversation with both Leo and Piper. He wonders if Bianca would’ve liked him if they ever got to meet each other.

Finally, Jason comes face-to-face with Jace and Praetor Nico, with Nico at his side. It’s a strange sight—the four of them together—but Jason can’t help but feel comfortable in Praetor Nico’s presence.

Praetor Nico looks at him carefully, lips pressed into a concentrated line that Jason is so used to on his own Nico.

“I,” Jason says gently, “think I’m going to take a break from quests and fighting for a while.”

Praetor Nico arches an eyebrow. “A while?”

“Until further notice,” Jason corrects. “I…can afford to focus on myself for a while. I think. Swiss Cheese Jason can take a break.”

Nico makes a sound—a mixture of amusement and disbelief. He shakes his head. “You get stabbed in the chest by a spear and you nickname yourself _Swiss Cheese_?”

“I had a third wound from when Michael Varus stabbed me,” Jason adds. He lifts his shirt before he remembers his new body doesn’t have all of his scars. Then he gestures to his arm.“And—you know, the one from Mike.”

Nico snorts.

Jace laughs softly, studying Jason up and down. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You got pretty hole-y.”

“Of course you’d find that funny,” Praetor Nico grumbles under his breath, arms crossed over his chest. Then, slowly, he flashes a look of approval. “A day you’re not doing something stupid is a good day in my book, Jason.”

“Me too,” Nico mumbles—and Jason smiles sheepishly. Then, Nico falls quiet, his eyes lifting to Jace. “Thank you. For staying as long as you did.”

Jace’s lips etch into a smile. He reaches out with a hand at first—but then curls it around his boyfriend’s instead. “I’d do anything for you, Nico.”

He’s so brash in his words that Jason feels himself flush at the earnestness in them. Jace’s words work both ways.

However, Nico flashes a pointed look. “I hope you know that’s worse.”

“No,” Praetor Nico agrees wryly. “No he doesn’t.”

He flashes the same look to Jason, and both Jasons laugh sheepishly.

Jason extends an amicable hand to Praetor Nico. It’s hard to miss the way Praetor Nico’s eyes flicker with amusement. They give each other a polite shake, grip tight, and Praetor Nico’s gaze is unwavering. His gaze falls to the cast wrapped tightly over Jason’s forearm, lost in his own thoughts.

“Remember what we talked about,” Praetor Nico reminds him.

Care about his own happiness first. No gods, no expectations. Just himself.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried, Nico,” Jason promises—and Praetor Nico’s face seems to match Nico’s own hue, after Jace’s words.

Beside him, he watches as Jace slowly brings up his own hand, lips pressed to a small smile. Nico stares at it—and to all of their surprises, leans into Jace for a hug instead. Jace blinks, surprises—and they carry on a quiet conversation under their breaths before Jace’s smile widens, and he hugs back.

Both Nicos study each other warily.

Then, again out of nowhere, Nico says, “Let me know if you ever want to have a Mythomagic match.”

Praetor Nico blinks. “How did you—?”

“A hunch,” Nico finishes—and he shrugs.

Before Praetor Nico can conjure a response, Jace places a hand over his shoulder, charmed—evidently recognizing the same qualities in both di Angelo boys.

Finally, Jason stands parallel to his counterpart, with matching, tired smiles. Jason sees _his_ scar, and _his_ kind eyes…and soon, he thinks he’ll see that same happiness in his demeanor already.

“Oh,” Jason finally says—and he tugs at the collar of his shirt. “Hope you don’t mind, I borrowed some stuff from your closet.”

Jace stares at him funnily, then laughs softly in the same tempo as Jason’s own chuckle. “Not at all. I was gonna do the same, but—dead man’s clothes and all. Would’ve felt weird.”

“Hey—felt weird even when I knew you were alive,” Jason says—and he tugs on the thin black hoodie. “It’s a good look. Never would’ve thought clothes could be functional and so nice-looking.”

The corner of Jace’s lips lift, and his cheeks dust pink with amusement. “I’m…not the biggest fan of Camp Halfblood’s t-shirts. You know—”

“You can only wear the same straight outfit for fourteen years,” Jason finishes for him—and they both laugh. “You look good, man.”

“ _You_ look good,” Jace insists, and the other corner of his mouth lips.

Beside them is another conversation.

“Are they flirting?” Nico asks, an eyebrow lifted in the air.

Praetor Nico snorts. “This is the closest I’ve ever seen Jace compliment himself.”

Jace flushes a bashful hue, and Jason’s own lips stretch into a grin. Then—

“Why?” Nico asks, and he turns his gaze to Jace, confused. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

Not even a second later, Praetor Nico throws his arms in the air emphatically. “ _Exactly!_ Tell that to Venus!”

Jace coughs over his fist. “Colors flush me out. Pale skin and all.”

“Really?” Jason asks, puzzled. He thinks of the royal purple of Camp Jupiter’s shirts, and the bright orange of Camp Halfblood’s tees. “Guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

“No,” Nico retorts, and his gaze narrows. “You’re too busy comparing yourself to _cheese_.”

Red flushes in Jason’s cheeks—but as he catches the son of Hades’s gaze, he sees a smile more than anything.

“We already know you’re handsome,” Praetor Nico brushes off—then he redirects his attention back to his boyfriend. “We’re just talking about Jace right now.”

Jace matches Jason’s hue—and before his boyfriend can get in a huff, he curls a hand over Praetor Nico’s and kisses him on the forehead. “I’m flattered. Thanks, Nico.”

Praetor Nico rolls his eyes. There’s a _gross_ echoed loudly from afar—no doubt from Roman Percy.

With one last gesture, Jace reaches out and meets Jason in a full embrace. The hug is tight—but Jason’s not really sure who is holding who closer.

“Take care, Jason,” Jace says gently. “Remember, you’re allowed to do that.”

Jason hugs him back, smiling in Jace’s ear. “I…never grew up with a brother, but I think this meeting is as close as I’d get.”

He can feel Jace matching the same smile against his ear.

“Then a bit of brotherly advice?” Jace asks, his voice light. “I think Nico likes longer hair.”

Jason flushes—and Jace’s chuckle flutters in his ear. As they part—Jason’s eyes fall to the son of Hades, who only lifts an eyebrow in the air with confusion.

Jace falls back in line with his boyfriend, one hand wrapped tightly around Praetor Nico’s waist. They share a hidden conversation—between Praetor Nico’s mildly wary gaze and Jace’s charmed expression.

Jason settles into a spot between Nico and Thalia—and watches as it’s mirrored with their counterparts before them.

“Let’s do this again some time,” Percy says. “You know—without godly interference. Party in your realm next time.”

Roman Percy grins. “If it’s one thing Romans know—”

“—we invented parties,” Reyna finishes. She’s at Thalia’s side, her lips pressed into a pleasant smile.

Jace pulls out the thermos from his pocket. His thumb traces the lip of the cap, and he looks back to Nico and Jason carefully. “Until next time. Alive and all.”

“Until next time, alive and all,” Jason agrees—and he waves goodbye.

With one final smile of relief, Jace uncaps the thermos. A gust of wind billows from the small container. Jason instinctively reaches to cover both Nico and his sister. There’s a loud whistle of the air as it cyclones around them—

And when it dies out, Jace and Praetor Nico are gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride! Let me know what your favorite parts of the story has been!


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